


Copper and Gold

by FlyHalf16



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arya and Sansa seek revenge together, Awkward Flirting, BAMF Sansa Stark, Bad Dirty Talk, Bran actually does things, Dialogue Heavy, Dirty Thoughts, F/M, Heavy Angst, Implied Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Implied Consent, Not a fic for Daenerys lovers, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Jaime Lannister, POV Sansa Stark, Sansa-centric, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 08:12:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 28
Words: 46,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18774727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyHalf16/pseuds/FlyHalf16
Summary: Jaime's journey North has bore fruit to an unlikely companionship between him and Sansa. Sansa struggles between doing what's right and what she wants while Jaime, by her side, realizes how much work being a noble, oath-keeping knight entails.Takes off after S8E1, first few chapters fall between episode 2 and even 3, but it soon diverges after the Long Night.Super slow burn and a lot of canon divergence. One-sided Jonsa.





	1. Jaime

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like reading, please be sure to leave any criticism in the comments. I'd love to improve!

He was ill-prepared for the cold breeze as it grazed his skin as soon as he stepped out of the warm castle hallway and into the courtyard. The regular Northern cold he could deal with, but tonight the winds have been particularly brutal. The snow had been falling quite heavy since he arrived and the cold cut his skin like knives.

The night had fallen and most had already settled in for a rest. He had planned to walk briskly through the main yard and to his warmed chambers, his warm bed until his eyes caught sight of copper locks, illuminated by the fire she stood next to.

He studied her for a moment, hesitant to approach, but this had been the first time he had seen her alone since he arrived in Winterfell. Usually, she'd be surrounded by either Brienne or her bastard brother, her annoying little rat of a sister or one of the other Northerners. But now, in the middle of the night, in this freezing, snowing weather, she stood on the pathway above the gates, looking beyond the walls of Winterfell, all by herself.

The fresh snow crunched underneath his boots as he walked, so there was no fear of frightening her as he approached from behind.

She didn't acknowledge him when he came to stand beside her. Even when he greeted her 'my lady' there was no response. For a moment he stood by her side in silence, unsure as to why he even came up to her. Perhaps it was the ale he had been drinking that had provided him with the thoughtless courage and Brienne's constant praise of Lady Sansa and her kindness, but he had been looking for her since then, trying to thank her for letting him stay.

Still, as he stood there, he couldn't bring himself to start off by thanking her. He might have come North to seek redemption and honour, but there was still a flicker of the old Jaime inside him. And the old Jaime remembered the frightened, grieving little girl he heard his sister talk about in King's Landing and the one he had seen before she fled after Joffrey's death. He never spoke to her more than a few greetings in the halls of the Red Keep, but even then she'd tense up and hurry away from him, like a frightened little mouse. He wondered how she'd react then to his teasing and how'd she react now.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. She barely resembled that little girl anymore, her eyes seemed cold, her face hard, always in thought, always making sure not to spill any emotion on her face. "Isn't it a bit risky for The Lady of Winterfell to be alone outside in the middle of the night?"

She straightened her back. "You'd be a fool to assume I'm out here alone, Ser Jaime."

Her tone was flat, her voice like she's never been this bored in her life and she never turned to look at him. Her expression was blank, but for a split second, he could see her smirk mockingly before she brushed the snow from her dress and looked at the courtyard behind them.

As if on cue, he heard armour rattle all around him and he finally noticed two pairs of guards coming out the shadows of the archways.

"My mistake. I-"

"What is it that you want, ser Jaime?" She started walking away from him and he felt the need to follow although he knew he was not welcome. He took notice of her steady pace and the men that have stepped out the shadows as he followed. _Two... Four... Six..._ She really wasn't alone. He felt like a fool with all the Northern men watching. That wasn't what he wanted, but he forced himself to swallow his pride and spit out what he came there to say. "I merely wanted to thank you for accepting-"

"You should be thanking Lady Brienne. If she hadn't vouched for you," She glared at him over her shoulder, never stopping in her path. "I can only imagine what _Our Queen_ would have done. I only did what Brienne asked of me. She saved-"

"Your life, I know. I provided her with the sword and armour to do so."

"Should _I_ be thanking _you_ then, ser Jaime?" Jaime chuckled, but only slightly. Who would have thought that the little Stark girl he remembered to be so timid and obedient, scared of angering his sister, grew such a long and sharp tongue?

His gaze lingered on the Stark banner that was hanging proudly above the entrance to the Great Hall as they passed by. How time has changed things. Houses have been spread out far and wide, died out and weakened beyond repair, yet House Stark, while lacking a few members, has grown strong.

"Direwolves..." He wasn't aware he said that out loud until Sansa stopped abruptly and she turned around, but never fully faced him. As if in thought, she stared at the ground before looking up at him smiling lightly. "The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives."

This has been the first time he has seen her smile, even if it was just a weak one, filled with sadness. She must have realized her crack in character as she frowned and looked at him. "Your pack is thinning, Ser Jaime."

"Your pack is missing a few heads since the last time I've counted, my lady."

"Yours is dying out. And rightfully so. The North remembers all of your family's crimes against my family, the North and the Realm. You should have stayed in King's Landing to burn with her."

He clenched his fist and the leather squeaked. She taunted him with another smile, this one meant purely to spite. "I suppose you thought coming North meant that you'd be pardoned for all your crimes?"

She turned around and started walking away. He tried to follow her, but his path was blocked by two guards as she ascended the steps to the halls that led to her chambers, her head high and proud. She spared him no more glances. "The North is no place for a Lannister."

He followed her with his eyes and the way her face morphed into a hard frown reminded him of Cersei. Her eyes were cold yet again and she turned to leave.

"I'm here to do what is right by me and the living, I don't care what you think of me or what I want."

She stopped in her tracks for a second, that much he could tell, but she quickened her pace and rounded the corner. "Goodnight, Ser Jaime."

"Goodnight, Lady Sansa."


	2. Sansa

She fiddled with a rock, spinning it back and forth between her thumb and middle finger, careful not to drop it. She had been doing so ever since she came out into the Hall to break her fast. A nervous habit she could hide under the table and avoid people reading it on her face. Just like Lord Bealish would fiddle with his ring or the sleeve of his undershirt when he was thinking too much and too hard.

Baelish would have been disappointed with the way she spoke to Jaime Lannister last night, had he seen how she acted and heard what she said. She spoke too much, too freely and too truthfully, like she completely forgot everything Baelish told her about trusting no one. She let him know loud and clear that he wasn't welcome. She might have spoken out in his favour, but it was only because of Brienne. Had she not vouched for him, the outcome would have been much different.

The Lady of Winterfell shouldn't be so loose-tongued and sharp with guests who have come to their aid against the Night King, but he reminded her too much of his twin. Of her time in King's Landing, of Cersei's schemes and Joffrey's torture. Of all those Lannister claws sinking into her skin while she was just a child. A stupid little fool.

"Are you going to eat that?" Jon's voice was like a splash of water on her backside as she snapped back into the present. She looked at him to ask what he was referring to and he nodded his head at the rock still in her hand. She noticed she'd been squeezing it so firmly now, her fingers slightly hurting. "Oh."

She felt his eyes bore into her back as she glanced around the room to see if anyone else took notice of her. That was the first time that day that she had taken notice of her surroundings. The dragon queen, at the end of her table, looked deep in thought herself as she listened to Tyrion while he pointed at something on a parchment that was spread out in front of them. Varys had his hands hidden in his longs sleeves as he met her eyes for a split second before bowing his head slightly and returning his attention back to Tyrion. There was loud chatter heard from across the Hall as Sansa searched for short blonde locks of hair amongst the crowd that was attending to their food.

She wasn't there. He wasn't there.

She set the rock, more like a pebble really, down on the table and stood up. "I should probably look for Lady Brienne."

"She's outside the walls, overseeing the men." He grabbed her forearm before she could move around her chair. "Sansa."

His voice was a whisper, hoarse and strained and quiet, meant only for her. "Are you alright?"

"I-" Jon tugged at her elbow. She didn't like the way his eyes shifted to Daenerys, as if to ask permission, before readjusting on her. "Come on, let's talk in private."

He tried pulling her with him, but she pulled her hand back, breaking free from his hold. "I'll meet you in the godswood. I have to speak to Brienne first."

"Sansa-"

"Jon, please. I'll come and find you once I'm done."  She left the Great Hall in a hurry, passing through the corridors, down the wooden steps that the Boltons had built during their stay there, and into the courtyard that led to the Northern gates.

Winterfell had been occupied beyond its capacity. Everywhere you looked there were people going about their assigned tasks and preparing for war. The fire-trench was being dug just outside Winterfell walls, wooden spikes with dragonglass daggers carried out to fill it, some were finishing defences on the castle walls as others worked on the ground obstacles. Everywhere you looked you saw warriors sparring, women and children tending to the grains and spending the last hours before the battle with their sons, brothers, cousins, husbands, fathers and friends.

The snow had made the ground a slippery puddle of mud all around and she had to watch her step to avoid falling. It had been a good excuse to not have to look up at the site all around her. Men had stopped to let her pass and she couldn't bear to look them in the eye, knowing that she'll be seeing some of these faces for the last time.

But she was the Lady of Winterfell, it was her duty to put on a brave face and lead these men through the preparations. Jon, the Dragon Queen and Tyrion might have come up with the strategy and set things in motion, but this was her home, her halls and her people. She was going to see this through personally as much as she could.

She had one of the men call for the maester.  He had joined her as she stood with some of the men, making sure they put enough arrows along the battlements for the archers.

...

"Have the blacksmiths finished putting dragonglass on all the arrows?"

"I will ask, my lady. They've been working day and night on those spears and daggers." They had just finished making their way around the walls and courtyards, making sure everything was being done as planned.

"If they need help, be sure to send more hands down there to help." She played with her gloves as she walked. Her fingers have gotten cold as she had been walking outside for most of the day.

"How about three?" Sansa turned to look at the owner of the voice.

"Lord Tyrion." She noticed Jaime stood close behind him. "Ser Jaime."

Tyrion had smiled lightly, looking at her as if he was being serious and expecting an answer, but Jaime hadn't been as friendly as he had been before. He frowned and look away as soon as their eyes met. She knew she had been too sharp with him the other night. He deserved to be able to prove himself just like anyone else but she had refused to give him a chance only because he was the brother of Cersei. She had openly expressed her disgust and she was sure that she had hurt his feelings.

Tyrion cleared his throat and Sansa smiled at him. "My Lord, your offer is much appreciated, but you are far more valuable here."

Jaime sneered.

"Nonsense, we are your loyal subjects! We will do as you command, my lady. Won't we, Jaime?" They all turned to look at Jaime, who had been leaning against the wall, his golden hand on his sword that was resting against his hip. Her eyes lingered there far longer than they should have and Jaime turned his right hip away from her view.

"I don't have time for this, Lord Tyrion. I have to speak to Lady Brienne."

Tyrion's smile widened. "Excellent! My brother will escort you to her, he's been heading there as well."

"I-" He cut her off as he motioned to his brother to move. "You're the Lady of Winterfell, it's only right you have an escort outside Winterfell's walls."

Before she could protest, he was already walking away, leaving her and Jaime to stand in awkward silence. She thought he might be with Brienne, but she didn't want to speak to him without talking to her first.

"Well," He motioned to the steps with his good hand. "After you, my lady."

She bit her lip and walked down in front of him. When there was enough room for them to walk side by side, they did so in silence. She knew she was the one that had to start the conversation. They got to the main gate and she couldn't handle it anymore.

"Ser Jaime." She stopped to look at him. "I have to apologize for my words yesterday, I had spoken too harshly. It was improper of me as a Lady to-"

"Sansa-" He said her name, but she didn't want to address that until she finished apologizing.

"Please let me finish. We have never properly interacted and while our houses might have done horrible things to each other, you had never been one of my tormentors. I had looped you in with your sister, accused you of her actions, treated you as if you were her and I have to beg your forgiveness. You are right, this is a fight for the living, and your past actions should not stop me from letting you make amends and regain your honour by fighting with us."

When she finally stopped talking, she looked up at him to see if she could read his face, but she was met with a blank stare. "I beg your pardon?"

Had she misspoken? "Ser Jaime?"

"Regain my honour?!"


	3. Jaime

Jaime scowled at the redhead. He should have just escorted her to Brienne quietly and took his leave, but she refused to stop talking. He had a whole list of reason why he chose to come up North and while regaining honour was one of them, he felt uneasy knowing that Sansa read him that well. He stiffened beside her, feet falling heavy against the snow. "What exactly does a little Stark girl know of honour? You've heard a few songs and tales while you were younger and now you think you know what honour means?" 

Caught completely off guard, she looked at the ground, probably to hide the face flashed with pain like he had just called her a foul name. And then with a blink of an eye her expression changed, she placed her hands behind her back as if to compose herself back into the nonchalant role she had tried so hard to pull off and she looked at him. He had a distant look in her eyes, likes they were standing on opposite sides of the field. "I've outgrown tales and songs long ago, Ser Jaime, but no matter how much of the world I've seen, unless you're a Targaryen, there's no honourable way of fucking your sister, a Queen no less. And you were a sworn knight in the kingsguard."

"Fuck the kingsguard. I didn't want to be cloaked in white. I would have been fine with being the Lord of Casterly Rock, doing dishonourable things day and night and not having a little Northern girl talk to me about honour."

Sansa remained quiet, no doubt taken aback by his reply. He had said too much already and as he continued he knew he'd been repeating the same speech as he'd delivered to the Dragon Queen when he first came to Winterfell. "I did things for love, for my family, not honour or praise. All I needed was her love-" 

"And now you're here." her words were as cold as ever, tone-deaf to any emotion. But she raised her chin, eyes sharp and stared him down even though she was half a head shorter. "You left the love of your life and travelled North to aid her enemies. I've been declared a traitor and a Kingslayer by your sister. Why are you truly here?" 

She straightened her back and took a step forwards. "You've said before that this is about survival, but don't think of me a fool, Ser Jaime. I know there's more to your departure from King's Landing. You've broken every oath you've ever made in your life, except for the one you made to my mother. You had armoured and equipped Lady Brienne so that she could protect me. You've done good deeds Cersei would never approve of."

She started walking before he could disagree and he had to catch up to her. They were well past the gates now and by now Brienne had spotted both them and Sansa's foul mood. Jaime bit his tongue as she continued. "You're not your sister, but I still don't trust you." 

"You would have been a great Lannister if you were still married to Tyrion. I haven't felt this cornered since I was in King's Lading and my late father was pressuring me to leave the Kingsguard." A side eye was all he received. But she understood the jest as she smirked. 

"I'd leave the jokes to Lord Tyrion, Ser Jaime."

"Forgive me, my lady. I only meant to flatter. You've changed much since the last time I saw you." She stared right head. "It's been quite the journey for me. I've learned a lot and I've grown."

"You aren't alone." His eyes wondered to Lady Brienne. "We've all gone down paths we never would have dreamed for ourselves the first time my family journeyed North with King Robert."

"We've ventured quite far from our first topic, Ser Jaime."

"Right. Well, I can only promise you that I have made no plans to hurt you or your family, my lady." He had realized that honesty was the only way to get Sansa to trust him enough to stop questioning him. "And you've been right." 

"About?" They've stopped in front of Brienne and while she had her back turned to them, seemingly focused on watching Podrick spar with one of the Ironborn, he had no doubt she was listening to what was being said. She bowed to Sansa but completely ignored him. 

Sansa's shoulders have loosened up, he had noticed. She really felt safe in Brienne's presence. He wanted to smile at that, but the words he was about to say had a much bigger impact on him. Words had gotten stuck in his throat, painful to say out loud and he felt like he could barely form proper sentences. He swallowed hard as if that would have helped. The stump of a hand fell heavy at his side, more so than usual. "I-" 

Sansa looked almost eager to hear what he was about to say. Almost. If that made him feel better or worse, he didn't know for sure. "I- Well, you see- Since-" 

The words have been glued to his throat and he felt like he was losing air. He used to be the greatest swordsman Westeros and now he'd been reduced to being called a cripple. Of course, he was there for the honour. For honour and respect that cowardice, sitting behind Cersei wouldn't ever bring. If he were to die, now that Daenerys Targaryen had set foot in Westeros, it was going to be during a fight. And if he could choose a cause, what cause is nobler than fighting for the living. And... 

His eyes wandered over Sansa and stayed put on her necklace ornament that looked like a needle. Protecting Sansa as he promised would bring him honour. He'd protect Arya as well, but that little rat didn't need much protecting, he had heard. She was quite skilled with that toothpick of a sword. 

If it weren't for his golden hand that is. 

"Ser Jaime?" He snapped his head up to look at her. He'd been unintentionally staring at his golden hand and Sansa had followed his lead. She probably thought he deserved it. Or that he was useless. But the look in her eyes didn't seem like she thought either of those things. Her face softened, he saw her eyes travel across his whole body and they landed on his face. The intense blue had nearly made him forget what he was trying to say. 

"You're right, lady Sansa, I have come to- 

"I understand." She must have seen the strain in his face as she cut in. It would have killed him to have to openly express his thoughts in front of her. 

He talked to Brienne about these things, but Brienne was Brienne. 

He looked at her as she eyed him up and down before focusing on Podrick again, her hand on her hilt, stiff as ever. She's been something close to a friend. They've fought side by side, journeyed through almost half the bloody South and she sympathised with what kind of pain a one-handed knight must feel. 

"I should leave you to discuss whatever matter you have to discuss. Ser Jaime, Lady Brienne." Sansa curtsied. 

"My lady, you have no need for me?" Brienne looked confused. Sansa only smiled lightly. "No, Ser Jaime was kind enough to escort me on my walk to you. I have to meet Jon in the godswood, I can't stay. I know I can trust you to supervise the men."

"Of course, my lady." 

"You know where to find me."

He smiled. "Not really. Where can I find you, my lady?" 

Brienne nudged him, but he was wearing armour, so he felt nothing but a slight push in his side. Her eyes were staring at him hard like she was about to stab him for making a light joke. Once he looked back towards Winterfell Sansa had already been out of earshot. 

Brienne nudged him harder this time. "What in the seven hells are you doing?" 

"What did I do?" 

"Where Lady Sansa spends her time within the castle walls is none of your concern."

"You take yourself too seriously. I don't really care much about the girl."

"Yet you're spending an awful lot of time with her. I saw you yesterday, you know." She looked back at Podrick.

"Don't be jealous now."

Podrick had just finished sparring with one of the boys, twisting the sword out of his hand as he had left his sides unguarded. Podrick looked at Brienne like he was looking for approval. Jaime joined her in looking at his sparring matches, his hands at his back.

"He's come a long way."

"He's alright. Still has a lot to learn." 


	4. Sansa

The godswood was empty except for the two of them. It's been way past midday and as cold had been biting at her nose and cheeks since she got there, she refused to let the conflict between them be put to rest.

Ghost had been resting by her foot and Sansa took it as if he was supporting her in the argument.

"Why don't you trust me, Jon?"

He looked at her with brows furrowed. He'd been doing that a lot since they started arguing. "I do trust you. I've always had. I left the North-"

"In my hands, yes. But the North isn't yours to give away, is it? The North is as mine as it is yours. As it is ours - The Starks'- not Cersei's or Targaryen." Jon visibly frowned at that, she had noticed.

"What? What is it?"

"It's nothing."

They stood by the lake that had frozen since the winter began. Sansa recalled once staring at her reflection and brushing her hair out while she was younger. It had been the perfect place to get away from everyone and be left alone to daydream about princes and knights until Jon or Robb came crashing down into the water, soaking her clothes. She'd squeal and scream at them until they ran off, leaving her in tears. She had been a naive and sensitive little girl.

And now there wasn't any reflection to be seen, just white snow that had covered the lake completely. No Robb to run over and splash her with water, no young Jon to follow, no Arya that'd do everything to get them to let her join their play and no Theon to complain about wanting to go back to the kitchens to meet one of the maids in the cellar.

They stood far apart, no particular reason why. He stood facing the weirwood tree and she looked at the frozen lake only a few steps behind him. They looked at each other often, so there wasn't any real anger between them.

Ghost whined for Sansa to pet him. She reached her hand through the fur on his neck to give him a scratch. Once he was satisfied he wandered off through the archway that led to the courtyard. Sansa turned her attention to Jon.

"This is the first time you've talked to me here since you got back and you've only done so to tell me how much Daenerys disapproves of Jaime being here."

"I don't want him here either, but we need the men." After a slight sigh, he continued. "He's a Lannister."

"Tyrion is a Lannister too." She took a step towards him.

"Are you taking his side?"

"Of course not, but Brienne trusts him."

"And now you do too?"

"Littlefinger once told me 'Everyone is your enemy, everyone is your friend'." She didn't expect Jon to care much about Littlefinger and his teachings, but she wanted him to understand why she's doing certain things.

"Littlefinger, right." He looked like he hated even saying his name.

"I know you didn't like him, neither did I, but he taught me a lot. I could teach you if you'd listen."

"I won't take part in any schemes." She took his hand and forced him to look at her. He reluctantly faced her, frowning not at her for touching him, but at the topic at hand. They both looked down at their intertwined hands, but neither of them pulled their hand back.

Sansa used her thumb to draw circles on his hand while she spoke. "You're a great Commander and you do great in the field, but while you're gone I have to take care of the politics. I have to listen to Lords and Ladies ask things of me, I have to bring them to our cause, I have to find sufficient ways to take care of our people."

"Politics aren't schemes." His voice was hoarse and she felt his breath against her forehead. The fact that he refused to hear her counsel was maddening, but she pushed her emotions side and looked him in the eye. They were far closer than she thought they were. Jon must have moved closer while she was talking. He seemed like he wanted an embrace, but he never dropped her hand to do reach out.

"They are in this world, in this time, Jon. If you want to be Warden of the North and-"

"I don't want to. You're much better at it than me."

She didn't want to continue that conversation anymore. They've already gone back and forth many times. She shook her head and stepped back. Jon tugged at her hand to stay.

"I didn't drive you to agree with me, you could have taken her side."

"I had something else on my mind."

"Jon, we said that we would do this together. I can't help if you won't trust me."

"I can't tell you. Not yet."

"Jon."

"Don't. I promise you that I will tell you soon."

"Is it bad?" He pondered over the question and took a step back, finally letting her go. "No, I'm just not sure what to do about it yet."

"We're family. That's the only thing worth fighting over in this world. It's only you, me, Arya and Bran. We have to survive the winter."

"We will." They stood in silence. Sansa knew that no matter how much they fought and tested each other, she could always rely on him. He will always do his duty, even if it means going against her wishes, but he'd never betray her. If she could sway his mind little by little then that would have to do until he realizes that all she does is to keep the Starks together and safe.

"If Jaime's here that means he's not with Cersei. If anything goes wrong, we can always use him against her. Brienne won't like it, but I would never ask her to seize him herself."

"So you want me to make him feel comfortable?"

"No, he'll figure it out like that. Don't mention this to anyone. Fewer people treat him differently, less likely it is that he'll start suspecting something. Especially don't mention anything to Arya, she's been asking me to let her kill him ever since he got here." Jon laughed at that.

"I have to talk to Lord Royce. We'll talk later."

"Take Ghost with you. Give him something to eat. He's been losing weight."

"Ghost, come." He was by her side in an instant. They made their way up the stairs and into the castle's corridors. She pulled her gloves off now and straightened out her dress, removing any snow that had fallen on her. "I'll have the Maester fetch you something once I'm done talking. You wait out here for me."

The wolf laid down as if he understood and she entered the library with a smile. 


	5. Jaime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're all still with me. I haven't gotten much feedback since the first chapter, I hope you're not disappointed with where I'm going with this.
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading!

Jaime had stumbled out the Great Hall quite quickly after Podrick started singing, under the pretence of taking a piss. At least that's what he told Brienne when she grabbed his arm before he stood. In reality, he felt a sickness in his stomach and a sudden urge to vomit. The song sounded too sad for his liking and not what he needed moments before the battle. He felt like he was burning even though it had been the coldest night of his life and he leaned against the cold walls to cool off.

There were footsteps echoing through the corridor. Whether they were singular or not he couldn't make out.

He stared down at his full cup of wine, the deep red had turned black in the dim corridor. He tugged on his collar to loosen it and swallowed down what little taste of wine still lingered in his mouth. With a sigh, his head fell back and his armour scraped against the stone as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Maybe he was just drunk after all and it wasn't just a sudden spout of paranoia like he thought it was.

"Ser Jaime?"

"Sansa." He didn't acknowledge her with anything more than that. She really didn't need to be there right as he was feeling unwell. He didn't feel like engaging in one of their little back and forth word matches Sansa was so keen on having.

"Go back to your men, Theon. I'll take care of Ser Jaime." He side-eyed the man she was with. He definitely stood too close to her especially if he heard that name correctly. "Theon Greyjoy?"

The boy looked back at him before turning the corner, his footsteps fading out slowly. Then Sansa focused all her attention on him. He involuntarily groaned in response as she made her way closer. "Are you okay?"

She eyed his cup. "Are all Lannisters such drunks?"

"I'm surprised you haven't started drinking yet. After meeting the family and all." He raised the cup, forgetting that his every move made a clatter and the corridors carried an echo.

"I don't drink wine very often. Dulls the senses too much for my liking." 

"Sometimes you need something like that. And since Cersei isn't here to take my mind off things, the wine will have to do." She shuffled uncomfortably at his statement and he looked away to avoid her seeing his sheepish smile. He shouldn't have mentioned his sister, definitely not in front of Sansa. Not like that. But this was the first time in a long time that he'd been without her thighs wrapped-

He shook the thought out his head. He left her for a reason. He needs to remind himself of that.

"Besides, this is only my second cup. My problems are completely up here." He motioned to his head. She rolled her eyes and looked around. "It's cold out here. You should go-"

"Come sit with me."

"What?" He was as surprised at himself as she was. He never thought of sitting down with Sansa and sharing wine, but there was a high probability that they could never get another chance. He offered her his wine glass and she, to his surprise, took it without any objections. "Where should we sit?"

"Lead the way, my Lady. You know this place better than I do." She led them to a well-lit staircase and very graciously plopped down on one of the steps. "The torches should keep us warm."

He stood above her and observed her posture. She looked so innocent staring up at him with the fire from the torches reflecting in her eyes. Her hands shook as she pressed them against her knees like a child and she wore a smile like they weren't just going to face certain death. He sat beside her. "Drink if you're cold."

"I'm not." But she took a sip anyway.

"Theon Greyjoy. I thought you Starks hated him for what he did to Winterfell."

"I thought we hated Lannisters too, but here you are."

"Yes, here I am." He mumbled that to himself more than out loud. The more he thought about that, the funnier it got. All the things that have happened to him since he met Sansa and his family had led to this. To this exact moment. It's almost like the Gods had made plans for him. Had he not been caught, he would not have met Brienne, wouldn't have made an oath to Catelyn and had his sword hand cut off in the process. What would the late Lady of Winterfell say if she saw Sansa and him sitting there? Would she had thanked him or cut his throat for what he did to Bran?

A bad thought shot through his head and he snorted at it. He had once teased Lady Catelyn about warming her bed and she hit him with a rock. He wondered what Sansa would have done. She's very much like her lady mother, only a lot more dedicated to keeping her intentions and emotions private. There weren't any rocks around, so Sansa probably wouldn't have done that.

He eyed her as she played with the cup in her hand. What a foul thought indeed.

They sat there in silence a while, passing the cup between each other although he barely drank any more. Sansa had taken many small sips, but the cup was still quite full. He watched her stare at its contents like she was seeing something else in the wine.

"What do you think of the battle strategy?"

"I haven't thought about it much. You don't like it?" She frowned. "We have two dragons and Jon's plan is to keep them grounded as long as he can. We'll lose far more people that way."

Jaime was quite stunned. He never thought Sansa would be one to talk of war strategies. "The plan is to draw the Night King out, isn't it?"

"They're going South, you don't need to draw him anywhere if he plans to on coming here anyway. He's putting everyone, especially Bran at risk."

"You'll be safe down in the crypts."

"I won't be going down." He shifted his body to face her, head crooked sideways. "Are you sure that's wise?"

"As Lady of Winterfell, I need to be present there. I'm not abandoning my people." He wanted to object but she placed her hand on top of his good one. Heat crawled up from his gut to his face and he pulled on his collar again. He tried reaching for the cup but Sansa squeezed his hand firmer. "You're not the first that's tried changing my mind. Don't waste your breath."

She took a longer sip than before and traded her hand with the cup. She pulled away and he was left staring at the almost empty cup, where her hand held him not even a second ago. He drained every drop of wine he could and put the cup to the side." I think you should ride out on one of the dragons."

"Don't be ridiculous. I've heard they won't let anyone near them besides Daenerys."

"I don't know, I've heard your brother has been doing a fine job of getting close to them. And the Dragon Queen as well. You should ask to join them next time. If we don't all die tonight."

"I think Our Queen would have them burn me alive if I ever got near those things."

"I certainly hope not." His armour scraped the stones again as he stretched out over a few more steps for better comfort. He could now see her back and some of her profile, but the rest of her facial features were out of his view. He focused on her cheekbones.

"Why?"

"Who else would entertain me in the middle of the night like you have on two occasions now?" She didn't turn to face him, probably too embarrassed by what he had just said. "I'm sure Lady Brienne would love taking over for me. Maybe even the Dragon Queen."

"Not at all. If she burns you, I'm probably next."

"Most definitely. If I'm going down, I'm taking you with me."

"A poetic finale to our stories, wouldn't you say so? The beautiful Lady of Winterfell and her dashingly handsome Knight burned alive by the-"

"My knight?" She finally looked at him, eyes wide and full of confusion. He hadn't been that amused since the first time she tried to offend him. He bit his lip not to laugh at her. So quick to take the bait of his teasing.

Rather than entertaining himself some more by teasing her, he sat up as if something pulled him up. The thought had gone from a joke to a good idea in his mind. He had made an oath to Catelyn that he had kept, he had ridden here because he pledged his sword to fight against the dead and by doing so finally seeing what a monster the crown had made Cersei. He had no place to return to. No one to go back to. He could have gone back to Cersei, she'd probably take him back, as much as they fought they loved each other even more, but he needed to stay away. He needed a noble cause to follow. Someone noble to aid. And that at the moment, under a slight influence of wine, was Sansa.

"If you'll have me." He swallowed hard.

"What are you asking, Ser Jaime?"

"I think my intent here is quite clear."

"You want to protect me?"

"I made an oath to your mother."

"You've done your duty, Ser Jaime. I've made it back home to Winterfell safely. And I have Lady Brienne to look after me thanks to you. Your oath is-"

"I want to stay here for now. If I even make it out alive tonight."

"It's too cold for you here."

"It's gotten too windy on Casterly Rock." He shrugged and looked her in the eye. "Where else should I go?"

"Why do you wish to stay?" She sounded frustrated. 

"Oh,  please don't start questioning my motives again. Those conversations were so boringly dull."

"Is King's Landing not home to you?"

"Home for me is where my family is, where my loved ones are. I have none left, so I'm not quite interested in going back yet."

Sansa shuffled uncomfortably and he stood up. "Should I lay my sword before you now or after the battle?"

"I don't-" A set of horns blew in the distance. Sansa rose to her feet as clatter was heard not far from them. Tyrion was the first to come around the corner. "They're here. What are you two waiting for?"

She hurried past him without a second glance and all the blood drained from his face as he realized what his brother just said. He followed them and met Ser Brienne at the doors. "Are you ready?"

"Do you think they'll come back another day if I say no?" He fastened his armour and checked to see if everything was in place. Brienne handed one of the men behind him a sword and turned to look at Jaime.

"Follow me." He followed her out the gates of Winterfell and over the trench. The night was pitch black and the winds felt like razors on his skin. His foot sank into deep snow. It had fallen quite a bit since the last time he was out. "I can't see anything."

Everyone grew quiet as they stood on the front lines. The tension was thick and he was glad to be standing besides Brienne at that moment.

They looked at each other before returning their eyes back to the darkness in front.


	6. Sansa

Pitch black.

That's all Sansa could see as the wave of undead hit the first lines of their defence. The dragons were nowhere in sight. The battle screams of Brienne and thousands of others filled her ears, along with screams of panic and pain and the cold stung her eyes as they began to water. Her mind had gone blank listening and imagining the sheer size of the massacre happening before her. Her knees began to shake and she took shallow breaths in panic. Her people were out there dying while she stood behind the walls completely helpless and useless. Short moments seemed to drag on forever, making it seem like they've been fighting for hours and hours.

The wind began to pick up as the undead hacked their way through their lines. Her mind went out to Brienne, Jaime, Podrick, the Hound and that red-haired wildling that Jon got along with so well. They were one of the first to be smothered in the wave. She hoped they by some miracle that they would prevail. That's when Dragonfire lit a line through the army of the undead. And then came another. She finally exhaled, not realizing she had even been holding her breath. Jon and the Dragon Queen came around to lay another fiery line across the battlefield before disappearing again. The sight fueled hope in her veins until she saw what looked like clouds descending from the sky. A wave of thick smoke eloped one of the dragons. She couldn't tell which one, but she hoped it wasn't Jon's. But then the smoke turned its direction downwards, extinguishing the Dragonfire and swallowing the second dragon in its path. The sheer size of it sent chills down Sansa's spine and she lost all hope she ever carried deep inside her heart.

But she made sure her face showed none of her inner thoughts.

Within a blink of an eye, the undead army seemed stronger without the dragons' help and she stumbled back in disbelief. They were all going to diem Her hands shook and she let her mouth hang open.

"Get down to the crypts." Arya turned around, her face showed as much shock as Sansa felt. For a moment she stared at her, mouth shaking, as she tried processing what exactly Arya had said. She heard ringing in her ears but she pushed it to the back of her mind and focused back on her little sister.

"I-I'm not abandoning my people." Arya pulled a dragonglass dagger from her belt and Sansa's voice just gave out.

"Take this and go."

She stared at the dagger Arya had put out for her to take and with a shaky hand, she grabbed the handle. "I don't know how to use it."

Arya looked like she had asked the silliest question there was. "Stick them with the pointy end."

She hesitated but listened to her sister. Her walk to the crypts was a slow and painfully humiliating walk as she leaned on the walls for support and to calm her shaking hands. At that moment she knew how completely useless she was. Arya had made the right choice sending her down there. She was too proud to remove herself from the battlements and she knew she'd only be a distraction. Her men and Arya would have to keep her safe and she didn't want to cause any more trouble with what they were up against.

She refused help when she was offered. She straightened her back and walked upright when she knew someone was watching. But when she rounded the corners and removed herself from most of the army, she rested against the wall, breathing fast and shallow.

Going into the crypts meant putting on a brave face, concealing her emotions and calming her racing heart. The women and children down there needed to see the Lady of Winterfell strong and unhinged. She might not be a fighter and she might not have felt optimistic in that moment, but she couldn't let herself go down there and cause any more fear. She concealed the dagger in her robes and repeated in her mind what Arya told her. Stick them with the pointy end.

The doors opened and closed behind her as a gush of heat overwhelmed her. She swallowed hard and descended down the steps. All eyes were on her as she walked down the dark corridor and into the crowded space, Tyrion being one of the first faces she truly focuses on. He was with Varys and she looked around the other halls, Northern women and their babies all staring at her. Her face was hard, she made sure of it, withholding any signs that would give away the onslaught she just witnessed. She locked eyes with the Dragon Queen's maid and held her stare until she felt Tyrion tug at her side.

Tyrion looked up at her like a small boy that had been sulking in the corner because he got punished for doing something wrong. They didn't speak verbally. She almost wanted to say something, but she looked away as he stared her down, feeling small under his glare. She couldn't voice the things that were happening up there and Tyrion wanted to know. He wanted her to tell him some good news but she knew he read her expresion as his face softened.

Looking at the flask pouch in his hands gave him a sign and he took a large gulp, walking away from her.

She found a seat on one of her ancestors' graves and listened to the whispers echoing through the crypts. The women talked quietly amongst themselves as if that were going to make a difference. Sansa sighed and fiddled with her gloves. The dragonglass hidden in her skirts kept creeping into her thoughts. What if the doors do cave in and the undead rush at her? Will she move fast enough? What if they have weapons on them? What if they block her strike? What if-

Tyrion's hand on her knee brought her back to the present and she looked at him. He handed her his leather flask. "For the nerves."

She shook her head and looked away. She didn't know if she could trust her voice not to crack. Varys had taken a seat across from her and kept glancing at the staircase. Tyrion continued pacing back and forth, going from Gilly and her son to the staircase and back. He looked as on edge as she was, wine obviously not helping with the nerves one bit.

She wondered how Jon was doing. If he was even still alive. Last she had seen him he was swallowed by the thick cloud alongside Daenerys. Deep regret pulled at her heart as she thought of Jon. They spent all the time fighting and challenging each other, she spent all her time jealously cutting at his authority and she never let him know how she felt. Why she disliked the Dragon Queen and why she tried so hard to keep him by her side. What would the Gods say about how she was starting to look at her brother? How she looked at the Dragon Queen with distaste and pure jealousy, the roots of which she knew were vile and improper.

They never properly said goodbye before the battle. She won't be able to say goodbye to his body if he falls. She didn't get to hold Father, she didn't get to hold Mother or Robb. Now she won't get to hold him either.

And what about Arya? Had the undead reached the castle walls by now? Was she safe? Every living Stark besides her was up there fighting, risking their lives and she was down here with the dead Starks and just about as useful.

Everyone around her stared at the entrance and resumed their conversations. She couldn't make out the words that were being said but the noise filled her ears regardless. She looked around at the graves of her ancestors, wondering is she'll end up lying next to them soon. If this will be the end of House Stark, the end of everything that they've fought for, risked their lives for. She wanted to hide away in one of the dark corridors of the Winterfell crypts and let her tears loose.

She wanted to cry for Robb and Father. If they were there they'd protect her, comfort her and Robb would make sure to stay by her side at all times. If Rickon was there they'd cuddle up together, she'd pretend to be doing it for him, but it would ease her more than anything else. If Mother was there she would be the Lady of Winterfell, spilling encouraging words in her ear and Sansa would be excused for crying and being afraid.

Varys sighed. "At least we're already in a crypt."

She looked around. Gilly had moved to sit closer to the entrance and Tyrion stood by her. "If we were up there, we might see something everyone else is missing. Something that makes a difference."

Varys scoffed and rolled his eyes and she could help but join him quietly. If he saw what she had seen he would not be so eager to go back there. Tyrion turned around, clearly aggravated by the gesture. "What? Remember the battle of Blackwater? I brought us through the Mud Gate and-"

"And got your face cut in half."

"And it made a difference." She remained quiet, but she stared at his back. What a hopeful fool he had become. The undead weren't anything like Stannis's troops at Blackwater. His one victory doesn't make him an expert at war strategies. No battle is the same. 

If I was out there right now-" 

"You'd die." Her tone was hard, unforgiving. Just enough to make send him a message to not question her. And she was right. He and she would be the first to perish. She softened her tone. "There's nothing you can do."

He threw his leather flask away like an annoyed child and picked up a full one. "You might be surprised at the lengths I'd go to avoid joining the army of the dead. I can think of no organization more suited for my talents."

He came to stand in front of her and took a long sip. "Witty remarks won't make a difference."

She knew nothing would. They were down there because they'd only be in the way, useless and a bother to protect. "That's why we're down here. None of us can do anything."

They shared a look. "It's the truth. It's the most heroic thing we can do now; look the truth in the face." 

She knew Tyrion would understand what she was saying. He was a smart man, a witty dwarf that loved to drink, but he was a clever man. "Maybe we should have stayed married."

"You were the best of them." She recalled how much she cried the first time he visited her chambers to bring her the news of their betrothal. She thought the Lannisters were mocking her, playing her for a fool and that Tyrion was amongst them. She hated him, his Lannister name, his family and his dwarfism. She always thought he was an embarrassing drunk. But he had been kind to her. Never forced himself on her. He treated her with respect and compassion and she grew to value him as a friend. If Joffrey hadn't died who knows what would have happened to them. Maybe over time, she would have grown to live him truly like a husband. 

"What a terrifying thought!" She smiled. He was right in a way. He wasn't much of a husband to her while they were married but nothing can beat Ramsey at cruelty.

"It wouldn't work between us."

"Why not?" 

"The Dragon Queen. Your divided loyalties would become a problem." She didn't mean to insinuate Daenerys was a problem, but rather that Tyrion made a mistake, letting himself get so blinded by her and putting so much faith in her. He had been dumbed down and the fact that he ever put his faith into Cersei confirmed that. 

"Yes," Missandei spoke bitterly. "Without the Dragon Queen, there would be no problem at all. We'd all be dead already." 

Sansa's face hardened but she wanted to laugh. 

Tyrion went back to pacing back and forth and she turned her attention back to her thoughts. Everyone remained silent except for a few babies crying deeper in the crypts and mothers reassuring their small children that everything was going to be alright. 

A lot of time had passed and she walked around to speak to her people. The morale was low as groups huddled around the candles. Some were coughing from the cold, others from the bad air and nearly all looked at her for comfort. She spoke to the children softly, trying to distract them from the horrible situation they were facing. 

Tyrion had tried sharing his flask with her but she firmly declined. She needed to stay focused, but she sat next to him and let him tell her about where he'd been since she escaped King's Landing. How he was put on trial and how Prince Oberyn fought for him. If only he visited sooner and she could meet him. The Dornish Prince had always been praised for being humble and a very skilled fighter. 

A loud bang rang throughout the halls and they both scrambled to their feet and rushed to the entrance. There were men screaming at the door to be let in. Her breath stuck in her throat as she listened to the painful screams and pleas mixed in with the screeching and growling of the undead. They all knew that if they opened the door, the undead would rush in and they'd be just as dead as the men outside. 

Selfish. Sansa swallowed her guilt. If she was alone she'd run to the door and let them in. But there were children here with her, she had to make the most painful choice she never wanted to make. She stood in her spot. 

The sounds were gone as fast as they came and Sansa and Tyrion sat down side by side. She made sure to whisper. "Tyrion."

"Sansa."

Their conversation was nonverbal. They read each other's face well enough. She was scared, pleading for him to help her make sense of it all. 

He squeezed her hand and looked to tell her to be strong. 

She knew he had no idea what to do, but having him by her side made her just a tiny bit less scared. 

Another long, agonizingly quiet time went by until she heard a few gasps around her along with rubble falling and weird screeching. Gilly had shot to her feet along with some others and then realization dawned on her. The dead were rising and they will all die in the crypts. Screams of women and children echoed around as they all ran further into the crypts. Hearing Tyrion call for her, she turned around and stopped. 

It was dark but she could see the outline of a body of the undead, crawling along the floor towards her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm horrible at writing emotions.


	7. Sansa

A small hand grabbed her and pulled her back. It was Tyrion. In the midst of all the chaos, people running away from the undead and the screams as they were being slaughtered, he dragged her behind one of the graves. They pressed their bodies against the stone and Sansa couldn't stop panting. The emotions of pure fear and panic threatened to spill from her eyes and she shut them. Her head spun at the thought of Rickon coming back to life, and maester Luwin.

She took sharp breaths to calm down.

The dead had risen. Brought back to life by some dark magic. Her ancestors were running around and killing all the people that Jon sent down to the crypts to protect. What a stupid decision. They should have known this was going to happen. Someone should have said something.

Tyrion looked at her. What could they do now? She remembered that Arya gave her a dragonglass dagger and she pulled it from her skirts so that Tyrion could see. It was their last line of defence, not that they had many other lines or options to choose from. But she knew they couldn't stay in hiding for long, the undead were crawling around everywhere. She was surprised they hadn't yet found her. Perhaps they were going after easier targets first. Screams ripped through her ears and she couldn't stop herself from shaking.

There were still unoccupied halls of the crypts for future generations of House Stark, if the Gods were on their side, they could pass through the halls unnoticed, lead the people there and try to hide.

They exchanged a look and Tyrion pulled out a dagger of his own. She could see the fear in his eyes. She had abandoned her mask the moment the undead rose and he could see the fear in her eyes too. That could be the last moment they ever share. He could be the last person she sees ever again. She smiled lightly. If only she had gotten enough time to thank him for being one of the brighter points during her stay in King's Landing. She wanted to apologize for all the time she treated him badly or looked down on him for being a dwarf. He was a good man, one of the few that were truly kind to her out of the goodness of his heart.

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He pulled it up to his lips to give her a kiss and he never let it go. It was such a pure form of affection as she wanted to cry even more. Without really thinking too much about it she leaned to him and hugged him tightly. It was pure instinct, but she wanted to feel a warm body before what could be their final act.

Tyrion tried to ready himself for what they were about to face. He was the first out of their hiding place and she followed close behind. Telling herself to ignore the dead bodies around her and keep looking ahead, they turned down a narrow corridor and followed the rest of the group.

She saw shadows from the corner of the eye, they were far closer than she thought. In a blink of an eye, one of the undead crashed into her and sent them flying into a wall. She screamed and blindly hacked at it with the dagger until it died with a horrible shriek and fell to the floor. All of it happened so fast but she couldn't recover properly as Tyrion grabbed her hand again and pulled her along. "Come on."

They ducked behind another grave. The undead had spread out by now. It seemed like not many of them rose. The graves that held the remains more than three centuries old seemed to be intact.

"We need to get to Varys."

She wanted to reply but she heard one of the undead far closer than she liked. Looking around the corner of the grave she noted it was crawling right towards them. There were no others near or no sign of them spotting her. She waited for the undead to get close enough and Tyrion jumped from behind her, stabbing the creature right through the head. Which one of her ancestors was that?

This time Sansa moved out of their hiding spot first. Her survival instincts have kicked in after her first kill and she was full of adrenalin. Determination to survive had given her the push she needed.

They ran deeper into the crypts, where there were barely any candles, but she could see a group of people crowded in a corner.

"Sansa!"She looked back. Tyrion tripped over Gilly as she and her son were crawling from under one of the statues. She reached out to grab Tyrion's hand but they were both knocked down with the undead body crushing him under its weight.

She started searching around the floor for the dagger she dropped when someone lit the undead's back. Pushing it off of Tyrion with her foot she finally dragged him up to his feet. Gilly had picked up a torch and was responsible for saving Tyrion's life. The body shrieked like so many before it had and laid lifeless in front of her.

The torch in Gilly's hands lit up something in his head as he looked around. "Grab the torches."

She picked up her dagger and a torch. They were not the only ones that picked up on the fact that fire kills them. She saw faces and torches mingling in the distance. They made their way to them.

Varys was one of the first faces she spotted.

"Pick up a torch, light it and step to the front. They're vulnerable to fire. We'll protect from the side."

They were all shaking, covering their children or themselves. None of them followed Tyrion's request and they had no time to argue. The undead could come at them at any moment. "Please listen to him. We have to fight to survive."

Missandei grabbed her torch and moved to stand beside her. Varys hesitated but lit a torch once Tyrion pulled him to his feet.

Tyrion squatted down by the wall and she followed. They looked in all directions to see if they were coming and from where. She looked around at the graves and statues, trying to pinpoint where exactly they were. "We have to move. The children-"

A pair of undead lunged themselves at her and Varys. Missandei had shoved her torch forwards, knocking one's head off as Tyrion grabbed the other's legs and caused them both to topple over. She grabbed Varys's torch and lit the first one's head on fire as Tyrion stabbed at his creature under him with his dragonglass.

He broke apart the wooden fire basket at their side and placed it in the centre of the corridor, dropping his lit torch on top. "We'll be lucky if that hits one."

"We can't- We have to- The entrance." She was suddenly out of breath. Her hands began to shake and she felt like the adrenalin was wearing down. Tyrion and she had ducked back into their hiding place. Varys had collapsed against the wall, in complete shock. The others were no different.

"We can use the alcohol to burn them."

She grabbed his shoulder. "Tyrion we can't take them by ourselves. Some were buried armoured and with weapons"

"We don't know what's going on outside."

"We're not fighters. We can't keep this up. We're all going to die if we stay here. We can only hope Jon and the others are alive to help."

"Is there another way out?"

"I've never known there to be one." They stayed hidden for a while before she spotted quite a mass of them charging at them from the start of the corridor. The others noticed too. Tyrion had taken charge as her hands shook.

"Sansa." She couldn't peel her eyes away from the charging undead, she only reached out to squeeze his hand again. The leather crunched as he kept squeezing as the undead approached like he was using her hand to relieve stress. His other hand shook as he held his dragonglass. "It was a privilege knowing you."

She held her breath. They were getting closer. Her hands shook. She could hear their ear-piercing shrieks. This was it. This was it. The shrieks grew louder and louder. Time felt like it stilled and everything grew quiet. She couldn't look. She shut her eyes and lifted her dragonglass in front of her.


	8. Sansa

She never felt bodies hit her, never felt any skull break or screams fill her ears. Even the shrieks stopped. There wasn't any other pain besides the one she had felt for a while now. One of them had cut her side while they were running for cover.

"Sansa, they're dead."

She finally opened her eyes and looked around. The undead were lying on the floor motionless. Tyrion grabbed a lit torch and threw it at one of the bodies to see if it was truly dead. Which one of her ancestors was that?

It didn't move. Tyrion kicked one of them in the head and her blood boiled. "Please stop. These are my ancestors."

Missandei looked like she wanted to chip in about something and Tyrion apologized with a small bow.

They all stood up around her. Varys had offered her his hand and she didn't know if she'd be able to stand. Her left leg felt cold and unresponsive. Her hand instinctively flew to the spot that was being to hurt a lot more than it did before. She couldn't even feel it for most of the time they were running around, probably because of the adrenalin, but now that the fight was over, she could barely stand. Her legs caved in and she slid down the wall back into a sitting position.

Tyrion, Varys, Gilly, Missandei and the rest looked at her like she was crazy. She gritted her teeth and forced through the pain. She's done that before many times. The coat obscured the cut from other people's eyes and she pulled both edges closer to her front as she fisted both hands into the fabric.

She led the way across the halls and to the entrance. It was a slow and painful journey, not just from her wound but from the dead bodies scattered across the floors. There were children, women, babies even, and the Starks with their loyal friends and servants. She walked slowly, avoiding the bodies as best as she could. Tears were beginning to well up in her eyes as they stopped at the stairs that lead outside.

"If the undead are dead, then someone must have slain the Night King."

She eyed him, he took a swing of his stupid wine that was left at the front.

"Do we wait?"

Everyone except her looked at Gilly. She couldn't turn around anymore. The pain had gotten worse all of a sudden. Might have had a lot to do with how mentally drained and fragile she felt. "No, I will go up there with Varys."

"Two great fighters to protect us in case there are still undead around. Brilliant."

"Missandei-" There was a crack from the doors. The metal rustled and the latch was open. They couldn't see who had entered. Several footsteps echoed out and Sansa took a step forwards as Lady of Winterfell. The boots came into view and she couldn't remember if they were familiar or not. Knees and thighs followed and soon the torso of an Unsullied soldier lifted everyone's spirit.

It was the Unsullied Commander along with some of his men. Missandei ran forward to embrace him and Sansa's eyes lingered on them a lot longer than she wanted. Would she ever receive a loving embrace like that from anyone ever?

Jon?

He didn't love her like she loved him.

She didn't think she would ever think of anyone else at that moment, but another person crossed her mind. Another hopeless thought.

Jaime.

She was just an oath to him.

"It is safe to come out now."

People hurried past her and she stayed rooted to her spot. The Unsullied didn't wait for her even though they had waited for everyone else as they passed by. She was finally alone. There was tension in her neck, it was starting to spread up to her head. It was heavy and she groaned like it would actually help release it.

"My Lady, are you alright?"

She didn't hear him walking down the stairs. She thought she was alone. She tugged on her coat to hide, but Jaime was too fast. He eyed the wound and hurried down to her. His armour made a horribly loud sound, as he approached and she wasn't sure if she was being oversensitive about it or if he really was that loud and she barely now noticed. He was concerned about her, that much was very clear. He moved her hands away and hovered over the wound with his golden hand. "You're bleeding horribly. I can tie it up for now, but you need a maester."

Her head spun as he drew close. "I'm fine. I just- I-"

"Sansa." He placed his good hand on her back to support her. She felt light at his touch. It was an involuntary response. A confusing one as well.

She wanted to count it off to her injury but she wasn't so sure anymore. Her eyelids felt heavy along with everything else and she saw dark spots creeping at her vision. She latched onto Jaime's forearm to steady her self and she fell against his side. Groaning out in pain, she hooked her right hand over Jaime's shoulder armour and let him take her weight. "Just up the stairs."

His grip tightened around her waist and she saw him grit his teeth as they ascended the stairs. It was an embarrassing sight as they fumbled and stumbled around like idiots and she prayed no one tried going down into the crypts now.

"What happened to the undead?"

"I've been at the gates, I'm not sure."

"Is Jon okay? Arya? Bran?"

"I've only seen Jon run past me, to the godswood. I've heard they're all alright."

"From who?" There was tension in her voice as she dragged her leg along. He groaned in her ear and she stiffened.

"You'll be alright, my Lady."

They made it to the top. "Thank you, Ser Jaime."

But he didn't let her go. Their eyes met and he stared her down. "Will you accept me now?"

"Accept you?" They faced each other.

"Accept my sword at your side."

She didn't know what to do. Jaime had shown to be sincere, but she knew how much of a problem accepting his offer would cause amongst her siblings. She knew her decision would be hated if she ever accepted it.

But looking into Jaime's eyes made her smile. It was a sad smile, one would see it as a pitying one. Jaime Lannister wasn't the man that once rode North with Robert Baratheon, vain and arrogant, acting like everyone was beneath him. Something happened to him like it happened to her and they both grew into their own direction. She didn't think their paths would entwine one day, but who was she to question Gods.

She spoke slowly and Jaime stared down at her all the same. "I don't think Jon would-

"I'm not asking your brother."

"Arya wouldn't-"

"I'm not asking that wolf girl either."

He loosened his grip and Sansa was surprised to have felt the difference as a bad thing. She should have pulled away from him as soon as they reached the final steps, but his presence was very much appreciated. Comforting even. He was trying hard to stay by her side.

"I accept it."

Jaime wet his lips and smiled like he had just won something. The smile was almost devious as he spoke. "My sword is yours, my Lady."

She groaned, suddenly aware of the ache in her side and the giant rock in her stomach.

"I will find a maester." He backed away from her and she pushed into him. Now she felt him stiffen as if that was possible with the armour on, and he looked shocked. "San-"

"Stay."

"I will do whatever you ask of me, but please take a step back."

"I'm sorry." It felt like she was being rejected. Without outright saying anything, Jaime had explained enough. She limped back and just far enough to step into view of Lady Brienne. She crossed the distance between them and eyed them both once she came close. Her eyes landed on Sansa.

"My Lady, you're hurt. Let me help you." She glared at Jaime. "What are you doing? Go get the maester."

"Actually I was planning on throwing her down the stairs." He looked at Sansa. "My Lady."

There was haste in his step as he walked away and she wanted to apologize again for acting the way she did, but Brienne forced her to move, so they could get the help she needed.


	9. Sansa

She had been patched up, but it was by Podrick, Brienne's squire, not the maester. Sansa refused to accept any help or treatment while others were in worse conditions. So Podrick borrowed supplies from the maester and offered to take care of her. She objected at first, but both Jaime and Brienne had forced her into her chambers and she could only voice her disapproval.

Podrick awkwardly conversed with her as he removed layers of her clothing and she wanted to disappear into the wall.

Jaime fiddled with his hilt and cleared his throat.

Both him and Brienne had been taken care of. They were bruised and cut, but it was mostly light, so they received some milk of the poppy.

She would have been completely fine with the same treatment, but Brienne had made such a fuss about her wound like she failed to protect her properly. She wanted to carry Sansa through the yard and Jaime had to make some sarcastic remark about her being a little girl to get Brienne to back away. She still wouldn't let her check up on Jon or Arya. She just told her that they were all okay and alive. The Night King had apparently made it all the way through to Bran and Arya had distracted him long enough for Jon to get there and they fought him together.

She was more than relieved to hear everyone was alright and living. But she was forced into her chamber like a prisoner, without any say in the matter as Brienne and Jaime stood by the door. Brienne had fixed her eyes on Sansa's wound like she was staring at her failure and Jaime kept nervously looking around like he wanted to be anywhere else but there.

She wasn't sitting straight. Podrick had her sit on the bed and use her elbows as support. She looked at his shaky hands.

"Have you mended many wounds, Podrick?"

"Not many, my Lady. Ser Brienne had been injured only a few times before."

"I'm surprised you had been injured at all." Jaime chipped in. Sansa ignored him and looked at Brienne with a smile. "Ser Brienne?"

"Yes, my Lady. Jaime knighted me before the battle."

Now their eyes met. It was the first time since she leaned on him too hard. "You deserved to be knighted sooner. Thank you, Ser Jaime, for being so kind to Brienne."

He bowed his head and she wasn't completely sure if he had done it mockingly.

"I wish I could have been there to congratulate you sooner." She loved and respected Brienne above anyone else outside her family. Never had anyone showed her such care without wanting something in return.

She hissed and drew both her hands into the bedding. Podrick had pressed something on her open wound. She didn't look at it. She never fully looked at her wounds or scars.

Jaime started. "I think we should le-"

"Yes, you should."

"Why should you stay? I think Podrick can patch up that little cut without you staring at it."

Sansa and Podrick both turned to look at the arguing Knights.

"Because I've sworn my sword to Lady Stark. I am to stay by her side-"

"Do you stare at her like that while she sleeps, too?"

"I can carry you out, you know" Jaime snickered. "I'm on duty right now."

Podrick has cleaned out her cut by now and she focused on the fighting to forget the stinging as he continued.

Brienne looked at him like he was foreign. "What do you mean?"

"What do you think? I'm here protecting Lady Stark from-" he looked around the room. "something."

Brienne ignored him and came to stand by Podrick. "My lady?"

"It's true. He had offered me his sword and I accepted."

Jaime wore a smug smile when she looked at him and she wanted nothing more than to just send him away. But he had been trying to lift Brienne's spirits since she saw what happened to Sansa and started worrying profusely. To anyone else, he would seem like the old Lannister she met years ago, but now his motives behind his teasing have drastically changed. Brienne seemed to be one of the few he let close, just like her and they both seemed to value her opinion and hold her in high regard.

If only Brienne and Jaime had come to King's Landing sooner, maybe she would have felt safer having her by her side. She would have been a knight sooner and together they could have built a great friendship as her and Jaime did.

"Younger me would have loved this. Two honourable knights, fighting for my hand."

She blurted that out. It came out like a half whisper, but everyone heard her.

"I think I win by default, my Lady. I don't think Ser Brienne can fill all the duties of a husband." Jaime seemed pleased with himself. He leaned against the wall and smiled that devious smile.

Brienne had gone pale beside her. She glared at him like she was ready to pull out her sword and stab him where he stood.

Sansa had stiffened and sat up. She would have blushed any other time, but after that eventful night, she just wanted him to leave her so her heart can settle down. But she didn't want to show him how flustered she truly was. So she swallowed her bad thoughts away and smoothed out the furs covers.

"I don't think it would matter much. Ser Brienne is a valiant knight. Your comments are tasteless."

His eyes darkened and he stared close to where her cut was still being treated by Podrick. "My Lady."

Brienne had spoken, wakening both of them from their thoughts. "I can't speak for Ser Jaime, but as for Podrick-"

She looked at them both and back at Sansa. "I promise I'm leaving you in good hands."

She knew Brienne was leaving because of Jaime and she wanted to leave her alone for the time being, but she couldn't resist not asking for Jon. She needed to see him.

"Brienne, if you see Arya or Jon, please let them know where I am. Tell them I would like to see them."

"Yes, my Lady"

As soon as she was gone Jaime strutted over to one of the chairs she had in the room and slouched down. She knew he was staring at her, but she focused on Podrick. He was bandaging the cut. "My Lady, you need to stand so that I can properly bandage you."

She stood and unpinned the front of her dress slowly. "Ser Jaime?"

"Yes?"

"Can you please wait outside?" He straightened up.

"I'll turn around." And he did. Although that wasn't wasn't what she wanted.

Podrick hesitated but continued once Sansa gave him a nod.

As soon as the bandages were in place, she dresses back up and frowned.

"Thank you, Podrick. Please leave us."

He bowed and hurried outside. Jaime turned around with a faked shocked expression and she stepped around the table, to put it between them.


	10. Jaime

Sansa played with her parchments on the table and strictly avoided looking in Jaime's eyes. Her hands shook slightly and Jaime really couldn't tell if it was from the night, the wound or just her usual nervous self when she was around him.

"Have you seen Tyrion?" She pushed one of the chairs in and he nearly snorted. She was trying to make herself look busy. She was obviously tired and exhausted, but she was too proud to let anyone know. He knew she'd focus on taking care of her troops and the dead bodies that were littered throughout Winterfell. It was the most bodies he'd ever seen at once and he had been on the battlefield many times.

"I have. He was coming out of the crypts."

"Did he say anything?"

"We exchanged a few words, yes." He took a step closer. She didn't move, but she took notice. Her knuckles drummed against the wooden table.

"Has there been any word about the dead?"

He raised his eyebrow in confusion. Which dead were they talking about?

"I haven't been told much about anything. As you know." He was still looked at as a possible threat. Everyone had greeted him with his infamous title 'Kingslayer' when they walked by. Sansa had called him that a few times, during conversation but he never got the feeling that she used it any other way than to spite him.

"Of course."

"Should I tell someone to fetch Tyrion?" He took two more steps around the table. She stopped pretending to be reading something and looked him in the eye. He smiled at her smugly as she watched him move. He saw her eyes travel down his torso and back up. She leaned over the table slightly and cleared the throat before looking down at the parchments again.

"It's alright. I'm sure Jon is on his way here as we speak."

"Oh right, the bastard brother who took your titles and land. Must be quite inconvenient for you, watching from the sidelines." He didn't mean anything by it, he just wanted her to focus on him. And she did. She straightened up and faced him with a cold stare.

"I know you're not used to good family relations, Ser Jaime. I guess you're used to climbing over your kin for power. That's not how things are in the North. I support Jon as long as he's smart about his rule."

She took a step towards him now. "And when he's not, I tell him, I don't plot behind his back."

They stood only a few feet apart now. She had taken his bait and Jaime couldn't stop himself from smiling again. He licked his lips and circled around her.

"Do you sneak into his room before or after the Dragon Queen?"

"Jaime, your jabs won't stir up any reactions from me." She was turned away from him when she spoke, but the pitch had given him enough of a reaction. Her voice shook and she grabbed the edges of the table. He moved to stand behind her and drew close enough to whisper in her ear. His hands were by his side so she could move away at any point, but he hoped she wouldn't.

"Jabs might not, but I know other ways of-" She whipped around and it caught him off guard. "It has been a long night for you. You should retire."

Her face was solidified into an emotionless frown but her voice was filled with warning. He found the ordeal quite entertaining.

"What would Lady Catelyn think of your curious affection?"

Her faced morphed into one of pure disgust. "Don't flatter yourself."

His ears perked up at that. He wasn't talking about himself at all. He was interested in knowing more, but it would all have to wait. He needed to confirm his suspicion first.

"I don't mean me, my Lady."

"I don't know what or who you mean then." They still hadn't moved. Sansa only crossed her hands on her back like she usually stood and Jaime's eyes wondered over her form. Did she know how she had brought her breast-

"Ser Jaime." He looked up at her face. She was studying him as much as he was studying her. She had completed stiffened in his presence, but it had been from his words, not his proximity.

He put his hands on either side of the table, trapping her in between. She pressed herself into the table and leaned away. She never told him to step aside or get out.

"I think you and I both know who I mean, Sansa."

Oh, what wonderful nonverbal confessions she had given him.

She was rendered helpless, not his doing, but her own. She could have pushed back at any moment and he would have obeyed. She could have told him to stay back and he would have done so without objections, but her hands caved in as he finished and she sank to sit on the table. She lowered her head to hide her face, but he stepped closer and she was forced to look at him. There were tears in her eyes and Jaime backed away slowly.

She never let him leave as she grabbed his forearm to pull him back. Her head fell against his plate armour and she seemed to look down at their feet. She didn't cry or sob or talk and he respected her for it.

Sansa was a grown little wolf now.

He placed his chin over her head so she couldn't see his smile. It was a horrible thing to smile about, but he did.

The honourable Ned Stark first fathered a bastard and then a daughter that would want to do things with him no siblings should ever think of doing with each other. Like him and Cersei.

But Sansa seemed innocent and shy. She would be nothing like Cersei.

Something started to burn under his stomach. It was probably from all the thoughts that ran through his dirty mind. All of them were wholly selfish, to feed some sick part of his desires. To entertain himself to the idea that Sansa Stark was just as corrupt like him.  He wanted to know in detail what she wanted from Jon. And how. If she wanted the same things Cersei wanted from him.

Had Sansa not been a Stark and as pretty, he probably wouldn't have cared as much.

But her situation was far more amusing to him in a sadistic way since her feelings were obviously unrequited love. Her bastard brother had been pining over the Dragon Queen like a complete fool as Sansa stood by his side, forced to witness it every day.

"How did you know?" It was just a sweet little whisper. Jaime felt shivers up his spine. He blamed the cold for it.

"I've seen the look you give him." She pushed him away very lightly and stood. She limped from him to the other side slowly and he followed her. Closely, but still far away enough for her to be comfortable. He didn't want to scare her away.

He didn't say anything more although he wanted to. He swallowed any words of wisdom he thought about sharing in regards to fucking her brother. Didn't fit the mood.

He heard her breathe deeply. She seemed to be deep in thought. Probably thinking of ways to kill him in his sleep.

He looked towards her bed and back at her.

They were in the same boat. Sansa wanted Jon and Jaime wanted Cersei. Both were unattainable for different reasons. Maybe they could feed on each other's desires, comfort each other and feed their needs for their siblings through fantasy.

He inched towards her again. He wanted to speak but his throat felt dry. His hand on her hip startled her at first, but she soon leaned into his touch. Something took over him and he whipped her around and pressed her into the wall behind them. Her hands shook on his chest and she looked like a wounded deer in front of a crossbow, but there was a flick of something dark in her eyes. His were probably completely clear to his intent and he wet his lip.

Her lips were a soft shade of pink, her skin pale and those Tully eyes deadly to his senses. Her lower lip flinched slightly as he took her chin into his hands.

They didn't speak but they held their gazes as Sansa's hands dipped lower. The tips of her fingers trailed along his armour and she circled around to his sides. She moved slowly and cautiously and Jaime had a hard time holding himself back.

There was a knock at the door and Sansa would have jumped away if Jaime hadn't held her waist. He knew who was on the other side of the door and he intentionally refused to let her go after she whispered his name. He groaned at that and reluctantly let her go.

"Come in." Her voice cracked as she smoothed out her dress and moved away from him.

The door opened and Jon stepped in, looking past Sansa and grimacing as soon as he saw Jaime stand so close. 

They both turned to look at Sansa and Jaime felt a little jealous at the way she smiled at Jon. He excused himself to her and walked out of the room to search for his brother.


	11. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've updated the rating for this fic. There won't be any heavy smut in this, but Jaime's thoughts are starting to get R rated.
> 
> Just a heads-up.

Jon looked terrible when he came to her as he had not changed since the battle ended. Hair a mess and the rest of him covered in mud and sweat and blood. She didn't think much about it when she ran to hug him and clawed at his back to bring him closer as if there was any more room between them. Tears gathered in her eyes and she couldn't hold them back. Not from him.

He hugged her back the same way and they stood in the middle of the room, locked in a long embrace as she cried into his shoulder. The fear of him being hurt left her and another one settled into her stomach. Him holding her so intimately had only further confirmed what Jaime had brought up earlier and her heart ached at that.

She liked Jaime holding her. There was a certain amount of comfort she felt in his arms, but he was her sworn shield, it was a natural thing to feel. But she knew there was a lot more warmth in his smile than the first time they met. They shared a lot more looks with each other since he came to Winterfell. Jaime was the third person she would most often seek out in the crowd after Jon and Brienne. Maybe because he was a lot older and more experienced than her and so inclined to share his wisdom when he was asked to or not.

Jaime's touch felt like they were of a protective older brother like Robb had been.

But Jon's embrace meant so much more now. She felt like she belonged in his hands like there was nothing more comfortable or relaxing than having him wrap his hands around her and whisper reassuring words into her hair. It was such a beautiful and painful things at the same time. She knew Jon would never return her feelings for him. He'd look at her like she had betrayed him if he ever realized how she thought of him. It made her bury her face deeper into his coat to gather his smell before he'd have the chance to pull away from her completely.

They spoke while embracing and Jon showed no signs of wanting to let her go. It was like she was at Castle Black all over again. Back then she had thought of him as her brother, but a complete stranger at the same time. He had been someone she shared a childhood with, but never like Arya and Robb did, which was probably why her feelings grew in the wrong direction.

She asked about Bran and Arya as he asked about her wellbeing. She stopped crying and his grip on her loosened just enough for her to dip her hands under his arms and draw him back in. He flinched and hugged her harder.

"Jon."

"Sansa." It was painful hearing her name in such a low, raspy whisper coming from him. It was horrible knowing that he whispered Daenerys's name the same way but with the same emotions she had for him.

She finally pulled her hands away, vowing to never hug him again and torture herself like that. She needed to stay away from him for her own sake. She stepped back and placed her hands behind her back.

"Have you thought of the dead troops?" She turned to look out the window to not see his face so close to her, but there was only a different kind of pain outside. She couldn't escape any of her problems.

"It will take some time to clear the dead." He joined her side and they both gazed out at the courtyards.

"How many losses do you think-" Sansa's voice cracked and faded out as she watched men.

"Too many. It'll be days before we collect all the bodies. Our own and the undead."

"We should mourn, but not too long. We still need to survive." Those were harsh words, but the winter was still here, they had to move on and protect those who still lived.

"There's no point in celebrating our victory with fresh wounds." He eyed her side.

"I'm worried about the Northern men. They've fought for us many times now. The North is becoming a wasteland with all the great houses dying out for our causes." She crossed her hands over her chest and leaned against the wall, facing him as he kept staring at her side.

"I'm as tired as they are. One more battle and then there will be peace." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself so Sansa didn't object. The Dragon Queen didn't sound like she was planning on stopping. Sansa would surrender the North since it was Jon's wish, but what if one of the other realms opposes Daenerys's rule. She would call upon Jon and his bannermen and they would be forced to march South to aid her. Nothing good ever happens when Starks go South. Her grandfather, uncle, aunt, father, brother and mother all died South.

"Will we burn the dead?"

"We should."

"Father and Rickon too?" He stiffened at that.

"Aye, it would be for the best." She didn't like that at all. Their bodies belonged in the crypts of Winterfell. As would mother and Robb if they would ever find their bodies.

She would ask Bran to find them.

"I heard that you fought the Night King. Are you hurt?" He sighed and lifted his left elbow. There was a long cut in the fabric of his padded shirt that started below his ribs and reached around to his back. Sansa's throat dried as she noticed the blood stain on his bandages. Whoever bandaged him did a poor job and she eyed the supplies Podrick left behind. "Let me tend to it properly."

"There's no need. It will heal on its own."

There's no way a wound like that would heal on its own. She would have to stitch it up if it was deep. "It won't if it's deep. Show me."

"Sansa, it's-"

"Show me." She grabbed his right hand firmly and pulled him towards the bed. He followed her and sat in the same spot she had occupied when Podrick was working on her wound. She smoothed out the bandages that were left behind and knelt in front of Jon. Heat crept into her cheeks as she silently regretted even asking him about his wound. She should have called Podrick back in and have him work on Jon.

"What about your wound?" Their eyes met and she realized what an awkward position this was. Jon looked extremely uncomfortable with his legs spread to make room for her body and she tried very hard to avoid looking at his body part the was on her eye level. She tugged at her collar and instead focused on opening milk of the poppy that Podrick gave her.

She swallowed as the bottle opened with a loud pop. "Taken care of."

"By Jaime?" There was a strain in his voice. she knew he was staring at her. He didn't stop even after she stood to pour him a glass and put wine over her fire. She felt like a little girl, enjoying his very obvious jealousy. Was it brotherly or not, she couldn't tell, but she stirred the wine and tried to sound as though she wasn't interested in the conversation at all.

"I don't think he knows how to tend to wounds properly." She glanced over her shoulder and saw Jon frowning at her, the light from her fire making him look almost sinister as it played in his eyes.

"Sansa, you know what I'm asking." Another strain in his voice.

"Not completely, no." She pulled the wine from the fire and picked up the milk of the poppy on her way back to him. "Drink this. I need to disinfect the cut."

He didn't object, which was surprising. He gulped it down all at once and Sansa stole a look at his throat, the way it moved as he swallowed.

"Did he touch you?"

She looked away to hide her blush and focused on dipping a cloth in hot wine. She eyed the cut shirt he wore to see how much of the wound it covered. "Lift your shirt."

She didn't allow herself to eye his torso too much. It would be improper and he would notice. He was still staring her down but his eyes had softened probably from the poppy.

"Sansa, did he touch you?"

"Why do you ask?" She brought the warm cloth to his wound and he hissed. It was hard seeing him in pain, but the wound had to be properly disinfected. His whole body tensed and she couldn't help but tense with him. She focused on her work to relieve him of pain as soon as possible.

"I made a promise to you, that I would never let anyone touch you ever again"

"Even if I enjoy it?" It was an absent-minded remark and she frowned at herself as soon as she realized what had just been implied.

Her words catapulted him into the air and she stumbled back from shock. His hands were drawn into fists and they shook at his sides. He was barely containing his anger, Sansa could read his body. He took a step forward and she held her ground.

"What would Robb say if he heard you speak of Jaime Lannister like this?"

"What would Robb say if he saw you bend the knee to the Dragon Queen?"

"If he was alive I wouldn't be King." His voice was barely a whisper now and he stepped back to sit down again. She didn't want to touch Jon anymore. He had mentioned Robb. Her brother. If he was here, things would have been different.

"Sansa, I'm sorry." She stepped forward and knelt down like before, to tend to Jon's wound. They didn't speak anymore. Not until she finished wrapping the bandages and moved away to clean her hands. The water in the basin on one of her cupboards was cold, but it had washed away enough wine and dried blood for her hands to not stick anymore.

Jon hadn't moved from his spot. "It's going to tear us apart. You and Jaime." She frowned. There wasn't anything going on between them. "Your Queen already tore us apart enough."

"Would you have done things differently if you were Queen?" It was sincere question, he wasn't mockingly asking her. She stopped scrubbing at her hands and faced him. "I wouldn't have slept with her."

He chucked, but it was forced and insincere. "I believe that."

"Was it necessary?" Sansa started to approach him. 

"So that's what bothers you?" She stopped in her tracks and he looked up at her, emotionless and waiting for her answer. 

"I- I want to know if this is truly what you want."

"This is the first time you've asked about what I want." This time his smile was real. She sat down beside him and took hold of his hand. It's what a sibling would do, she assured herself. No boundaries where overstepped by holding your brother by his hand. But she felt like there was something more there. 

"Well, what do you want, Jon?" 

"I thought I knew what I wanted," he looked her in the eye. Her cheeks burned by how close they were. "Now I'm not sure anymore."

She squeezed his hand to reassure him. "I care about you, I'll always want what's best for you."

And that wasn't her. The best thing for Jon wasn't his sister. 

"I know."

"I'm sorry I've forced my opinions on you." He brushed her hair over her shoulder. "Yours are the only opinions that matter to me besides Arya's and Bran's."

He didn't mention Daenerys. That was an answer to her question he never verbally responded to. She won't speak of her anymore. He didn't love the Dragon Queen like he led others to believe. Not that it mattered much. He didn't love Sansa either.

She put her head on his shoulder. One last time before she starts avoiding his touch. One last inhale of his scent before she completely retreats. She nuzzled her head deep into his neck and he dipped his shoulder to make it more comfortable.

"You should rest."

"You should rest as well."

"I have to speak to Davos and Tormund. You lie down and I'll have Brienne wake you for the war council." She tried to object, but he stood up slowly. He placed a hand on her head and bent over to give her a kiss on her forehead. It was gentle and light, his lips barely touched her, but it stopped her breathing all the same.

"I have to see Arya."

"I'll tell her to see you once I find her." He didn't wait for her to protest any more. The doors closed behind him and Sansa was left in her room like she once was when she was little and Arya and her fought. She shivered. It had suddenly gotten very cold. 


	12. Jaime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments. I would reply to them but I'm currently super busy with real life and just writing this story. I appreciate every comment left on the story and I read them all.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Lord Royce had departed with his men for The Vale. They're taking their dead back home."

The Dragon Queen didn't like hearing that, everyone could see. "Will they be joining us when we travel South?"

"He did not say, Your Grace. I would presume that he will join you once you pass Harrenhal."

Sansa, Jon and Bran stood to his right, Tyrion, Daenerys and Varys to his left and Ser Davos, Brienne and the red-haired wildling opposite of him. He stood alone on his side of the table with only Daenerys's Commander keeping him company. They had the map of Westeros spread out along with the plans for a massive pyre.

"Who allowed him to leave?"

"I did." All eyes turned to Sansa. She stood upright, her shoulders high and her hands on her back like usual. Her face was emotionless as she looked straight at Daenerys. Jaime noted that she looked more regal and confident to him than the Dragon Queen ever did. Sansa carried herself well when she wasn't pressed against the wall by him.

He pulled on the front of his breeches, feeling them grow tight. The only one who eyed him was Sansa and he offered her a smug smile. She had avoided speaking to him since he was in her room. Brienne had told him that Jon ordered her to escort Sansa to the war council without telling Jaime, but he had been at her door before the meeting was called.

Jaime had escorted her to the godswood to speak with Bran, but he didn't know what they talked about. She spoke to Lord Royce as he was just about to ride out with his men before she returned to her chambers like she had never left.

"Why? I still have need of his men." Sansa returned to looking at Daenerys. "They're allowed to bury their dead by their own customs. They're not Northerners, they-"

"Neither are the Unsullied or Dothraki."

"They're your allies, Your Grace. You can send them home if you'd like to. Lord Royce had asked me to relieve him of his oath-"

"He asked you? I am his Queen." Jaime saw Sansa swallow back some words. She let out a frustrated sigh and looked down at the table to reassess her thought. The rest were looking between her and Daenerys and Jon but Jaime focused completely on Sansa, completely smitten by her. Very few openly opposed the Dragon Queen, but she had done so multiple times without flinching or stepping back.

"You're right, Your Grace. You are his Queen, but Lord Royce rode North for me. To aid Jon and me in the battle for Winterfell. Had he not answered my call," she emphasised the words 'me', 'I' and 'my' and every time she did so, Jon nearly flinched beside her. The tension in the room escalated as Sansa spoke and Jaime knew things would not end pleasantly. "you wouldn't have Northerners, wildlings and the Vale backing your cause."

Now the room turned to Daenerys, awaiting her reply. Jaime leaned on the table and smiled at Sansa. She noticed him and gave him only a small little lift in the corner of her mouth. They both looked at the Dragon Queen who grimaced and rotated the rings on her finger in anger.

Tyrion cleared his throat. "Your Grace, My Lady, we should talk about the pyres plans and the dead. We don't have much time."

Ser Davos took a step forwards. "I agree. These pyre plans were found by the maester. They're used to burn massive amounts of corpses, they'll fit well for our numbers. We will need men to build them. And a lot of wood."

"How many do we build?"

"We would need about sixteen or more."

"That will take a lot of time."

"Correct, Your Grace. At least two days if all the surviving men build."

"We will burn the dead tomorrow. Tell the men to start building." She had gone mad. She expected them to build everything in one day. Jaime barely held back a snort. Tyrion wanted to interject, but she gave him a  hard glare that shut him up quite quickly. Jaime raised his brow. His brother was never so easily silenced. "We have another battle to win. I need the men to march on King's Landing before Cersei has time to build her numbers."

The wildling chef stepped forwards. "We should celebrate our victory."

Everyone turned to him like he'd gone mad. "We've won. Jon Snow gathered men from different lands together. We should drink to the union!"

It seemed like everyone wanted to say something, but Tyrion was the first to speak up. "I would rarely object to a feast with wine and ale. It would lift morale and take people's mind off of fighting. Your Grace?"

"Fine. Tomorrow after we burn the dead, we shall have a feast. The day after we ride out." She walked out without another word, her War commander and Tyrion following right after. Ser Davos had excused himself after telling the rest that he'll deliver the orders to the troops. Brienne had wheeled Bran out on Sansa's orders and the wildling followed her. Only Varys, Jon, Sansa and he remained and he intensely watched what Sansa would orchestrate next. She looked to Jon and then gathered up the plans for the pyre and handed them to him.

Jon eyed Jaime with a cold stare and hesitantly walked out.

Sansa smiled sweetly at Varys. "Lord Varys, may I ask you to leave? I would like to speak to Ser Jaime in private."

Varys unfolded his hands and leaned against the table. "It's a shame. I would have liked to speak with you."

"Is it urgent?" She stepped around the table, closer to Varys. Her hand trailed along the edge and she looked at Jaime from the corner of her eyes. "Not at all, my lady. I only wanted to congratulate you on your journey. You've come far since the last time I saw you at court. I admire your progress."

"What do you truly want Varys?"

"I would like to speak with you on behalf of the Queen."

"About?"

"Peace."

"Surely a smart man like yourself would have noticed by now that your Queen wants submission rather than peace."

"My Lady, I have to disagree. I'm sure things seem different from your side, given what you've gone through to return to the North, but-"

"What about my side?" Jaime took a step forwards, brows furrowed. "I've seen her burn my men alive, burn the supplies that would have fed women and children she plans on ruling over."

Varys closed his mouth at that and returned to crossing his sleeves over his chest. His smile was small and forced. "My Lord, Our Queen-"

"Your Queen, Lord Varys." Sansa now wore a small smile on her face too as she stepped closer to the eunuch. "Winterfell is no place for a spider. The walls are too thick for spiders  to hear through them, the servants know to kill them if they ever crawl into the open. You won't find any secrets here."

The white direwolf rose from under the table and growled at Varys as Sansa continued to approach. "You'd be wise to climb back into your Queen's pocket, you won't do well once the winter winds pick up."

"My Lady." Varys retreated as the direwolf bared his white teeth. "You're a smart man. I've learned that you've tried saving me from the Lannisters by marrying me to the Tyrells. I thank you for your efforts."

"You're welcome, My Lady." The direwolf laid back under the table at Sansa's command.

"I won't have Jon kneel to a tyrant. I didn't take you for a man that supported hereditary monarchy."

"I don't. I will follow the best possible choice, but her claim and chances of victory currently exceed any other contender." Jaime was at a loss with the current exchange and he rather listened in silence. Sansa seemed pleased with Varys's answer. "I'm glad to hear that you openly acknowledge your Queen's faults."

"I made a choice to follow her. I will do what I can to advise her to do what is good for the realms. All of them, My Lady."

"I would like to speak with Ser Jaime now, Lord Varys. Please excuse us." Varys nodded his head and exited the room without another word. Jaime turned to Sansa as she peered at him from across the table.

"How can I be of service, My Lady?"


	13. Jaime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a short chapter, a filler if you want to call it that.
> 
> Check the updated tags please. I love to hear constructive criticism, but I'd like to avoid outright hate because people don't like certain things. The tags have been updated with a but more details. (hopefully I've avoided spoilers for future chapters)

The other Stark girl had interrupted before they could properly speak with each other. She gave him a hard glare before declaring that she wanted to talk in private. Sansa dismissed him with a scroll he had to deliver to the maester to be sent out. The maester would ask who Sansa wanted it to be sent to and he was told to regurgitate what she had told him to say. "Blackwater."

"The maester will know what I mean." She smiled at him politely as he questioned her about the recipient. It didn't make much sense that she would be sending out ravens to-

Bronn was Ser Bronn of Blackwater. Did she mean him? Or did she have a spy in King's Landing? He thought of breaking her seal, but the maester would have known. He lifted it close to one of the lit torches on the walls to see if the light would unveil any words. He only saw her handwriting, but the lines crossed over one another and he couldn't read a thing.

"What are you doing?"

"Is that the only thing you plan on asking me ever? All our conversations start the same. You used to put in a lot more effort." He turned to face the blonde knight as she eyed him suspiciously. "It's not my fault I find you in questionable situations."

"It's only you who finds them questionable."

"Why isn't Lady Stark with you?"

"She's not a babe, she can cross the corridor without my help. The other Stark girl wanted to talk to her in private." Brienne took a step towards him and eyed his hands. "What's that?"

"A scroll for the maester. Why must you be so nosy? Just because you have a big nose doesn't mean you have to-"

"You were trying to read it."

"I was. And?"

"Ever since you got here you've been nothing but trouble. I saw you come out of her room. Alone."

"I don't have an escort like you." He nodded his head at Podrick who stood on the steps behind Brienne.

She sighed. "You know what I mean. You made an oath to Lady Catelyn to-"

"Am I not keeping it? I've sworn to keep her safe until this whole ordeal is over. What more would you have me do?"

"That's plenty actually. I find it a problem that you're very intent on getting close to her in a very improper manner."

He snorted. "She came to me for help."

"I'm aware, yet you seem completely fine with taking advantage of her in her momentary weakness."

"I've only offered her my wisdom on a certain matter."

"What wisdom do you have to offer her truly?"

"I would be breaking my promise if I told you." She rolled her eyes and marched past him, taking the scroll out of his hand along the way. "I don't believe you."

She turned into the courtyards. "Your brother is in the Great Hall. He was looking for you earlier."

...

He found Tyrion on the steps leading up to the Great Hall with Varys frowning beside him. His brother took a swing of the wine bottle in his hands and raised his hands when he saw Jaime approach. "Brother! You're alive. I thought the wolves had eaten you by now."

"Wolves?"

"The Stark sisters."

"I think I can handle two children." He patted his hilt. Tyrion laughed and patted the spot next to him. "Sit. Varys and I were just talking about how glad we are to be breathing."

"Can't you find a warmer place to sit?"

"We have wine to warm us although I'm the only one drinking it." Varys rose. "Ser Jaime is right, it is quite cold. Excuse me, my Lords."

They watched him walk off and Jaime sat next to his brother.

"Varys told me Sansa had spoken to him after the meeting."

"I wouldn't trust Varys too much if I were you."

"Nonsense. Varys is a good man. He might be missing his cock but he is a good man. He will do what is best for the realm." Jaime wanted to ask about the correlation between being a good man and having a cock, but Tyrion took another swing of his wine and continued.

"Imagine my surprise. I leave Westeros for a while and upon my return I find my once dutiful and insincere wife to now deliver harsh words of truth without a second thought."

"You mean Sansa or Varys?"

"Jokes are my expertise, Jaime. You can't have both looks and the-"

"Is this what you called me here for?"

"I would like to toast with my brother. We're alive, we're intact, I'm not missing a limb and you haven't lost any new ones. That's a cause for celebration, isn't it?"

"You'll drink all the wine meant for the feast." He stood.

"Ser Brienne shared a cup with me, but my own kin won't."

"Fine." He took the bottle from Tyrion's hands and took a few larger sips. Anything to stop Tyrion from rambling.

"Remember when we were here before Robert died." Tyrion looked around. "Things have changed."

"I don't hate it as much as I used to."

"Neither do I. Although I never disliked it as much as you." Tyrion looked like he needs a rest. He gazed at his feet. "I wish we had come here under different circumstances."

"The worst is behind us."

"You say that because you're not facing the wrath of two women."

"True. I'm facing the wrath of one woman and whatever you'd call that." He pointed at Brienne as she walked through the yard as if on cue.

"Ser Brienne, she's doing a marvellous job of protecting Sansa."

"She's North, There's no need to protect her now."

"That's true. People here look up to her like she is a Queen. I doubt any harm would fall upon her as long as she stays in Winterfell."

"Starks do well as long as they stay North."

"Her father, mother and brother all died because they went South."  Tyrion looked like he remembered something. "Remember House Bolton and House Frey. The houses that helped with killing the King in the North and his mother?"

"I do. We seem to take a trip to Riverrun quite often to take it back for the Freys. The Tullys keep coming back."

"They say winter came for House Frey.  There are stories about the Stark girls. How Sansa turned into a wolf and chewed Ramsey Bolton's face off and how Arya Stark used dark magic to turn the Freys into sheep and set the wolves at them during a feast."

"I heard that Lord Frey went mad and killed his sons."

"Very unlikely."

"And the wolf girl using dark magic seems more believable to you, then?"

"Why not? Everything I've once thought to be stories and legends seems to be coming alive."


	14. Sansa

"House Bolton and House Frey." Arya placed their little wooden sigil on the map in front of them. She stood on the west side of the map, between Casterly Rock and The Neck.

"The Vale and Riverrun." Sansa placed Arryn and Tully sigil on her side of the map. She stood at the Fingers. She looked at the map in full again. "What about Houses Baratheon and Tyrell?"

Arya extended her hand and motioned to Sansa to hand her their sigil.

"House Glover." They shared a look.

Arya put their sigil where it belonged on the map. "Let them think they're safe. Once King's Landing is secured Winter will come for House Glover and they'll pay for their treason."

"They're Northerners. I'd rather keep them alive, the North has lost enough men in the last few years."

"No one betrays my family and gets away with it." The look in Arya's eyes told Sansa she was deadly serious. She decided not to ask her sister about what she planned to do and instead played with the other sigils. The Lannister sigil caught her eye.

"With Cersei's death, the most powerful players of House Lannister will die." Sansa tried handing Arya their sigil, but she didn't raise her hand to take it.

"What about Jaime and Tyrion? They're powerful Lannisters, Sansa."

"They've both abandoned their house, Tyrion killed his father with a crossbow and Jaime Daenerys would never let Jaime inherit Casterly Rock. Without them, they're just another minor house." Arya still took the sigil to its place on the map and Sansa couldn't do much but sigh at her sister's stubbornness and very apparent blood-lust.

"I wonder if they'll make a song for us. Like Rains of Castamere. We've pushed two houses into extinction by now."

"With the help of others, we can do far better." Arya smiled at her. This time it seemed like a genuine smile she hadn't shown others often. "See? Politics seem dull compared to this."

"With politics, you can often kill with sending a raven."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"It's just faster." They both smiled at that and Sansa looked at where Arya stood at the map. "House Greyjoy."

"They have allied with Daenerys, haven't they?"

"I can speak to Theon. I doubt he'll ever pick her over House Stark." Arya raised her brows. "Haven't they told you?"

"Told me what?"

"Theon died protecting Bran."

...

"Lady Sansa?"

She knew she shouldn't have gone to him. She could have gone to Jon, Arya, Bran or Lord Royce and even Tyrion. Anyone but the man she ended up in front of. Even Daenerys could share her pain of losing someone close to her.

She knocked on his door faintly and with a shaking hand. One part of her hoped that he was already in bed, sound asleep and she'll have to retreat into her room like it would be proper. But the other part of her waited in anticipation to see him.

When he opened the door with a perplexed expression and called her name, she realized she had been holding her breath all along.

"May I?" He wasn't wearing his jerkin, she noted. He stood before her in a half untied shirt. Black and woollen. It brought out the colour of his hair, unlike the golden jerkin he rode North with. He clenched his jaw and she stilled. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting you. I shall leave you to your-"

"No. It's- it's alright, My Lady. I was just surprised to see you in this part of the castle."

"I would like to speak with you." They both still stood on either side of the door. Jaime only smirked but otherwise he did not move. "Forgive me, but it is quite late. You're welcome to share a drink with me, but I would appreciate if we could leave the heavy subjects at the door."

He stepped aside to let her pass and she entered without a word. The room had been quite cold and empty. She noticed he kept his armour and sword on the table in the middle of the room and everything else at the foot of the bed. He hadn't placed anything into his drawers. The fire was barely still burning and she faced him with a small smile. "Do you like it cold, Ser Jaime?"

"Not at all. I don't know how to have it warmer."

"Hadn't Brienne told you?"

"I think she'd be quite fond of seeing me freeze to death." Sansa pulled her coat from her shoulders and let it rest on one of the chairs. "The trick is that you keep the fire going even while you're away. Always place more wood on the fire before you leave."

It was all just polite conversation to ease her mind. Jaime grabbed a cup of wine and approached her. "I only have one cup, My Lady."

"We've drank from the same cup before, Ser Jaime." He nodded. They both seemed a bit rigged and uncomfortable. Sansa started to second guess her decision to seek him out.

"How can I be of help?"

"Theon Greyjoy died today." She took the cup he offered as a reply and took a sip. The fire warmed her side as they stared at each other. She didn't expect him to respond so she continued. "I felt like coming to you, which was ironic at first."

She stared at his untied shirt. "Bran and Arya aren't exactly ones to seek comfort from and I can't go to Jon, he-" her voice faded out.

Jaime took a step forward and raised a brow. "My Lady, I say this with your wellbeing in mind. Please refrain from going to men's rooms, seeking comfort. They might take it the wrong way."

His smile was subtle and she felt like he was outright mocking her for thinking he'd ever waste time listening to her. She cleared her throat in an attempt to hold back the sadness as she excuses herself. "I shouldn't have come here, Ser Jaime. Goodnight."

She tried moving around him but he blocked her. "Do you not want my comfort?"

"I thought you were mocking me."

"Not at all, My Lady. Men are scum, I'm sure you of all people know that. Comfort can mean many things in a man's mind." She felt his breath on her hair again. His voice was gentle and low in volume and tone. She refused to look him in the eye as he stared at her and focused on his lips. She felt a gentle touch on her shoulder, barely there, as if he was asking for permission. "What does it mean in yours?"

He wet his lips and gave a short breathy chuckle. "Different things, My Lady. It depends."

"On what?" She leaned into his touch slowly.

He thought for a moment and moved away. "On whether or not you actually seek comfort or a distraction."

"Distraction." She didn't let him leave and matched his steps.

"Then I would wonder if the distraction is to be through conversation or other means." Sansa halted. Jaime was being intentionally cryptic and that had only made her more curious to hear what he meant.

"Other means?"

"Do you want me to walk you through the castle or maybe drink with you? Teach you how to use a dagger or maybe," He took a long step towards her and grabbed her by the waist before she could move away or react. "Have my hands travel over your body as I bite on your neck."

"Ser Jaime." Her voice was shaky and Jaime dipped his head down to her exposed neck. He murmured against her skin as his light bites inched up to her ear. She pushed against him and Jaime growled from the back of his throat. It was a desperate and needy one and his hands pulled her hips closer.

They both stumbled back and Jaime had to pull back to keep them up. His healthy hand reached up to the laces on his shirt. Sansa stepped closer again and put her hand over his to stop him. "I would like for you to only kiss me tonight."

She didn't have to say it twice or elaborate on why she didn't want to lay with him. He abandoned his shirt and took hold of her again. His lips were experienced and his mouth hungry. She pressed against him and he moaned into her mouth, the reaction making her do it once again. Jaime had groaned and pulled back for air.

"You shouldn't be here. Brienne will look for you." She pulled him to her lips again.

In another moment they stopped for air. "Do you truly care?"

"I feel bad that I don't. I've wanted to taste your sweet lips since I learned that you loved your brother."

It felt she had been hit with a splash of cold water. Sansa nearly stumbled back and looked at Jaime like she was ready to stab him. "Is that it?"

Jaime looked confused for a moment and then guilt seeped onto his face. "Surely you could have expected-"

"Of course, I should have expected a Lannister to try and manipulate me." Without another word she picked up her coat and stormed out of his room. She heard he had followed her, too closely for her liking and she quickened her pace.

"Sansa, I didn't mean to insinuate-"

"Ser Jaime? Lady Stark?" Brienne had popped her head out of her room, hair messy and still in her nightly attire. Sansa took her chance and dashed out into the courtyard hearing Brienne's angry yell before ascending the stairs to her chambers. 


	15. Jaime

Sansa didn't even look at him for the next two days. All the troops were told to build the pyre at the request of the Dragon Queen. She had grown restless having to wait one day more than she had commanded. She had commented crudely multiple times as Sansa insisted that the soldiers needed more rest. She was the Queen, everything had to be done as she said. Sansa refused to break bread with anyone besides Bran and Arya and she spent most of her time in the Winterfell library with Sam.

Jaime avoided Brienne any time she made an attempt to speak with him.

On the third day after Sansa's and Jaime's incident, they had all stood outside the gates of Winterfell, listening to Jon give a heartfelt speech. He didn't really listen, he only glanced at Sansa throughout the whole thing. She avoided him that day too. At dawn when he escorted to the Great Hall she looked like she hadn't slept in days.

After the burning Sansa had gone straight to the godswood and when he tried to follow her Brienne blocked his way with Podrick at her side. "I know what you did."

"I'm sure."

"You made an oath-"

"Shouldn't you be somewhere else?

"Where?"

"Not in my way." Jaime tried to pass her, but she drew her sword out of the hilt halfway. "Don't make me beat you again."

He forced a smile. "Do you take pride in beating a cripple? It's not much of an achievement."

"You say that now."

Jaime signed and stepped back. "You don't have to protect her so much, she's pretty capable of crushing men under her heel. The only time you should be worried about is when her dimwitted brother wants to speak to her."

"You're jealous." She made a face like realization just dawned on her.

"Of what exactly?"

"I'd imagine you'd very much like to be her brother." Podrick took a step back as Brienne stared him down.

"And I thought jokes were below you. I should take back that armour and sword. It would suit me better."

"You're too short."

They heard a shriek that sounded a lot like Sansa coming from the godswood and all three of them bolted that way with swords in their hands. Brienne tracked past Podrick, but she was fully clad in armour while Jaime only wore his breastplate, so he passed her by the time they entered the gateway that led into the godswood.

They found Sansa on the ground as the white direwolf ran past them growling. Jaime was first at her side and brought her back to her feet although she refused to give him her hand. He grabbed her forearm and pulled her up and she practically ripped herself from him. "What happened, My Lady?"

"Ghost jumped as I was petting him. The dragon flew too low for his liking and I slipped when he toppled me over." She didn't acknowledge Jaime and turned to Brienne.

"Seems like your pet hates the dragons almost as much as me."

She gave him a stern look and turned to the weirwood tree.

"Sansa!" They turned around.

Jon stood there with the Dragon Queen in tow. The last two people Jaime knew Sansa wanted to see.

"I heard you scream. Are you alright?" He started to walk closer but stopped after his eyes fell through the company around Sansa. "I would like to speak to Lady Sansa in private."

Sansa took a step forwards but never gave any of them any signal to leave. "It's alright. They can stay."

"And what if your Queen commands it?" Everyone, including Jon, looked at Daenerys. She wore a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I would like to speak to you in private as well."

"Your Grace, I'd have to object. Ser Jaime and Ser Brienne follow me everywhere as my sworn shields, I feel more at ease with them by my side."

Her smile never faltered but her whole demeanour changed. It was barely noticeable, but it was there. Both Jaime and Brienne saw it as they exchanged a look. Sansa placed her hands on her back and stood proudly between them. Jon was staring at the ground, seemingly avoiding everyone's eyes.

Her voice was sweet at first, but now her tone was strained. "Ser Jaime has climbed up the ranks quite quickly, wouldn't you say?"

She looked at him now, eyes cold. He opened his mouth to speak but Sansa interrupted him. "Please don't think I am intentionally going against your commands, Your Grace."

She took a step towards the Dragon Queen and Jaime raised a brow in amusement. He knew that was a blatant lie since she's been doing nothing but that ever since Jon had brought Daenerys here.

She motioned to Podrick to leave. And then she turned to Brienne. "You and Jaime stand by the gateway."

As much as he hated leaving her in Daenerys's clutches he did as he was told. She must have been pleased with that because she waved away her own guards and told Jon to leave them. Luckily from where Sansa wanted Jaime and Brienne to stand, they heard everything. It was a little muffled and drowned out by other sounds, but he could hear most of the conversation.

"So this is where you pray?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"And what do you pray for?" He couldn't hear Sansa's answer quite clearly. They both started walking about. Jaime never took his eyes off of them both. He found himself comparing them. Their posture and walk. The way Sansa talked while looking away from the Queen had told him that she was completely uninterested in the conversation. They probably weren't saying anything important, but he wanted to hear it all anyway. Snow crouched under his boot as he took a step sideways, inching closer. Brienne gave him a firm glare and looked ahead. "What are you doing?"

"I want to hear what they're saying."

"Now who's being nosy?"

"Having to deal with you for so long it's no surprise you rubbed it off on me."

"Don't make me rub something else on you." He grimaced. "That's disgusting."

"Absolutely not what I meant." He shushed her as Daenerys stepped closer to Sansa. She spoke loud enough for Jaime to hear as he leaned in. "Family tends to fall apart at some point as mine did. My brother tried to kill me and then tried betraying me. I have no doubt in my mind that if you chose to betray me Jon will not object to me burning you alive."

Brienne was surprisingly the first to step forward." Is the that a threat, Your Grace?"

"No Sansa, it's a promise."


	16. Jaime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if I've made any mistakes. (I'm a bit drunk uploading this and can't be bothered to check again)

"To Lord Gendry Baratheon, of Storm's End!"

And so they stood to drink to Robert Baratheon's bastard. What would Cersei think about this? About this bastard boy turned Lord because Daenerys made it so. His sister would never allow it. When Joffrey killed Robert's bastards Cersei acted as if she didn't know, but Jaime knew it had been a thing that lingered in her mind for far longer than she would ever admit.

He knew Daenerys had made him Lord to appease the people who claimed that she was threatened by anyone that stood any chance against her. She knew very well that Gendry didn't ever even consider being a Lord, much less a King. A boy like him would never dare oppose a woman with dragons by her side so she deemed him a not serious threat. Especially since he was fond of the little Stark girl who happened to be related to Jon Snow, the man who warmed her bed.

Yes, Varys had heard. Even though Sansa said there weren't any secrets in Winterfell. And Tyrion had been in such a cheerful mood that he wasted no time in telling him during one of their drinking games before the feast.

Jaime sat with Brienne and Podrick at the front, at the table closest to Sansa. She looked at Tyrion with a puzzled expression and realization dawned on her as Jaime could see.

He turned to Brienne just as she had refused to have her cup refilled. He put his hand over hers and drew it from her cup. "We've fought dead things and live to talk about it. If this isn't the time to drink, when is?"

She eyed him with scepticism but let him fill her cup anyway. With a faint smile, they clashed their cups and drank. He tried refilling it but she firmly objected. "One's enough. For now."

So he refilled his cup and drank with Podrick. And the more he drank the more his eyes wandered to Sansa. She sat there with her first cup of wine probably, looking noble and pure in the light of candles on her table. Jon sat on the table beside her, wildlings all around. The red-haired one offered Jon that horn he drank from on the night of the battle and Sansa laughed. Loudly. "Go on, I believe in you."

'You don't just believe in him. You love him.' He nearly sneered at Jon. Some more wine made him see double nearly and his emotions ran loose. He was frustrated by how she batted her eyelashes as she looked at him. 'He's a fool, don't do that.'

"To the Dragon Queen!"

"To Arya Stark and Jon Snow, the heroes of Winterfell!" He raised his glass, not to the queen or either of the Stark siblings mentioned, but to the Stark girl whose hair was copper, whose lips were a soft pink and whose skin was pale and red against him. He sighed.

'Sansa. You will be the death of me. You are too pure and too innocent for an old man like me, but I can't stop thinking about you.' He drank and drank until he felt a hand on his back. "Brother!"

His brother sat down by his side and with a heavy thud placed a large keg of wine on the table. "Let play a game!"

They were all drunk. Even Brienne seemed to be tipsy now. "What game?"

"It's my invention. We go around as we sit making assumptions about each others' lives. If we're right they drink, if we're wrong we drink."

Brienne laughed. "What?"

"Let's go a round, you'll understand!"

And they did. And again and again and again. Until he saw Sansa pass by, just standing up from Clegane's table.

"Lady Stark!" She looked at him. "Will you sit with us?"

She eyed the company and Brienne made room for her by the end of her bench.

"Only a little while." She sat and Tyrion explained the game to her.

"Alright, I think I understand." Brienne was supposed to go first, but he couldn't help himself. "You've never been married before Tyrion."

"Oh come on, that's something you knew. That's cheating." Tryion whined.

"Is it? You've never specified the rules."

So Sansa drank from her cup and Jaime refilled it. It went on for about a few rounds until Tyrion focused on Brienne. "You're a virgin."

Both Podrick and Sansa drank. She jumped in, trying to save her sword. "That's a statement about the present."

"And no point in the past up until this very moment have you ever slept with a man or a woman."

Brienne stood without another word for the men around her. "My Lady."

Sansa stood with her and she glared at Tyrion.

"We did it! We faced those icy fucks! Looked right into their blue eyes and here we are." Both Sansa and Brienne smiled at the wilding and his interruption. He looked at Jaime and Tyrion. "Now, which one of you cowards shit in my pants?"

Sansa laughed while the other just watched the red-haired wilding drink from his horn. He laughed and Brienne pardoned herself. Jaime let her walk away and focused his attention to Sansa as she sat back down again. There was a certain comment hanging off the edge of his tongue, but he didn't dare say it in front of Tyrion and Podrick.

Lucky for him Tyrion stood and poured his drink into Jaime's cup. "I've had enough."

"Now that's a surprise."

Soon Podrick walked away with one of the whores and left them both to their drinks.

"Sansa."

She looked at him from above her cup. "I'm sorry."

"For?"

"I started out thinking very selfishly about you and I. I wanted to use you in a way. Your love for your brother is what made me look at you differently at first, but over the past few days I've-" he trailed off.

Some loud bunch passed them.

"Cersei and I had something special. I thought maybe you and I could-" Sansa put a hand over his. "I can't say I empathise with you, but I can say that I've also thought of-"

She rose in a blink of an eye and Jaime had to practically throw himself at her. "Sansa, wait."

They stood just a few inches from each other. Sansa's back against the wall like he had her a few days ago. "I don't see you like a Cersei replacement.

"You're drunk." He nodded. "I am, but I'm being honest."

She put her hands on his shoulders to steady him. "I would like to touch you again. Properly this time."

"I do not wish to cause my brother more distress." They looked at Jon's seat. He was mingling with some wildlings, drinking and laughing. 

Jaime drew closer. "And here you are, pressing yourself against me." 

"Pressing myself against you? I'm the one that's being held captive between you and the wall." 

"So far you haven't done much to free yourself." 

She frowned and tried to wiggle out of his hold. He barely felt any resistance. "Forgive me, Ser Jaime. I should return to the festivities." 

He pressed her into the stone, their bodies fully in contact. He wondered if she felt his excitement then. "As the Lady of Winterfell, you should attend to your guests." 

"I should."

"I am your guest." He drew closer to her ear. "And I'm a bored guest at the moment." 

"I'm not the court jester." Her tone was spiteful but Jaime didn't take her seriously. 

"Good. I don't think you would entertain me much if you were." He eyed the glaring king in the North. 

"The sight over there is far more entertaining, but," He waited for her eyes to stop drinking in his body and look him in the eye. "If my Lady wishes, we can attend to our own festivities in private."

"You are bold, Jaime. The Dragon Queen would love to burn you alive and you're not giving my brother any reason to object."

"I'm certain my Lady would throw herself in between and beg for my life."

"Could you please lead me to your Lady, perhaps I can sway her from doing something so foolish." 

"She's currently occupied." He dragged his good hand from her thigh up to her core, where he let it rest until she gave him a sign that he had crossed the line.

"She's extremely occupied with moaning my name." She bucked her hips forward and Jaime pressed his hand into her, drawing his palm up and down slowly and watched as she whispered for them to go with her eyes closed and lips trembling. 

"Someone will see." He smiled and kissed her temple, forcing her to turn her head. He whispered into her hair with a dark and broad smile their spectator could see. "Look who sees."

She opened her eyes as she was told and immediately twisted in his hold, blushing hard. It was Jon that her eyes met with. He had been glaring at them since she approached Jaime.

"Sansa," His voice was a hoarse whisper, full of need, but he doubted she caught on. "Let me dip my fingers between your folds."

She threw her head back in a nervous laugh. She looked at him with her lower lip between her teeth. "Jaime."

She moaned his name as he had promised and it sent a shiver up his spine. His breeches had grown smaller again and she took notice as he pressed himself against her thigh. "Sansa."

Her smile was so innocent and pure until he felt her hand against him. Then the smile turned mischievous. "You're a tease."

"I'm a Lady."

"A beautifully improper lady when needed. I am a fooled man." He pulled away and acted betrayed. 

"All this time I've spent slowly testing and teasing you to earn your trust when I could have just taken you against the wall," she gripped his jerkin and pulled on it. "against the table, in the corridor leading to his room, to have him hear his sister moaning my name, knowing he had forced her into my embrace." 

The wine had fully encouraged him and Sansa's pleading eyes completely swallowed his senses. He completely forgot they were still in the Great Hall as he dipped his head and let his lips taste hers. The kiss was deep and enticing. They both hungrily mouthed at each other and Jamie knew at that moment that he was fully wrong about Sansa. There was no innocence left in this wolf girl. 

He felt as if the music died out as Sansa deepened their kiss and traced his torso with her hands. It was a light, shy touch. She was dipping her hands lower and he grabbed her wrists to stop them both from going too far in public. "My Lady, let me escort you to your room."

She wiped at her mouth and straightened her back against the wall. "Ser Jaime."

She walked away slowly and grabbed a keg of wine from the tabletop. They both looked around to see if they had drawn much attention. Only Podrick and Jon seemed to be openly staring at them, but with completely different reactions. Pod had smiled sheepishly, showing his teeth and eyed Jaime with a nod of approval as Jon stared at him with pure disgust. Jaime noticed that he held his hand firmly on the hilt of his sword. He looked to Sansa and his expression changed completely. He looked like she had just stabbed him in the back and twisted the dagger.

Jaime knew that he was playing a dangerous game with the Stark siblings, especially Jon, but Sansa had been so convincing when she whimpered into his ear that she wanted him. It could have been because she saw Jon with the Dragon Queen and wanted him jealous or maybe she just wanted to forget. All he knew was that there was a possibility of her calling out Jon's name at the end of their night together. 

Maybe a part of her actually liked him the same way he had found himself liking her.

He banished the thought from his head and followed her into the corridor. She swayed from left to right and back again and he slowed down his pace. Was he going to take advantage of a confused drunk girl tonight? Was Sansa even capable of naming him at that moment?

The Gods would strike him down if he laid his hand on her in that state.

He stumbled. He was drunk just as much, if not more. As soon as she turned to him and he saw the way she looked at him from under her lashes his monologue of what was right and wrong was thrown out the window.

It was warm in her chambers. Either from the fact that they were alone or the fire in her fireplace. She stood in the middle of her room, face in the shadows. "Ser Jaime."

"Lady Stark."

"You've sworn your sword to me."

"I have."

"I would like to see you swear _yourself_ to me as well." There was a sexual undertone I'm her words and his mouth produced words faster than his mind could properly process. "Yes, My Lady." 

"You haven't yet spoken the bidding vows."

"Would you like me to offer my sword now?"

"Not yet. Not while I ask of you to do something dishonourable." She inched towards him painfully slow. There was a sway in her hips and Jaime swallowed back a joke. She untangled her chain necklace from her bodice and let it fall to the floor without any sound. He was focused too much on her eyes and the way she wet her lips before speaking again. "Ser Jaime." 

"Yes, Sansa." He could feel her breath against his skin now. 

"Will you do as I command?" 

"I am here to please you, My Lady." 


	17. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be addressing Sansa's and Ramsey's relationship much. As far as I'm concerned Sansa has fully healed from the whole ordeal, she's just not aware of certain things sexually-wise because she's had a different experience.

Sansa shouldn't have dismissed her maid the next morning. Her hair was properly tangled and she needed help with the back of her head. She won't be able to braid it herself. 

She was the first to rise from her bed, carefully removing Jaime's hand from around her waist not to wake him and stood. She dressed slowly as her hands shook. The memories of the night crept back to her as she noticed love marks down between her breasts. Jaime had dragged his teeth through her skin and bitten at it when she first undressed. It was a shock at first and she was sure that any other day it would have been a painful thing, but at the moment she enjoyed it immensely. 

She wasn't a maiden anymore and even though she had told him, she felt like one. He had to guide her through things and it made her blush. Jaime had laughed at her and reassured her. She gained confidence soon and had made him groan for her. In truth, he was just as clumsy at the start. They spent most of the night just exploring what Sansa would like. Thinking that she would like him to be gentle, she was surprised to realize that having Jaime be a bit rougher was what made her feel the most pleasure. The intent was what made her moan. 

Ramsey had been rough because he wanted to hurt her and Jaime had been rough because he wanted her so badly. She had matched his vigour soon after she felt him trace his tongue under her belly. 

She blushed just thinking about it. It certainly was a mind-numbing experience. She didn't think such please and acts could be possible in a marital bed. Her septa and mother only ever spoke of the duty to produce heirs. 

Sansa frowned. Jaime and she weren't married and yet they laid together. That had made her improper. But a lot less improper than loving your brother. 

Jon never crossed her mind and Jaime never whispered his sister's name in her ear. She didn't notice until it was over. It had been in the back of her mind at the start. 

She heard shifting behind her. Jaime had been stirring slowly. She hurried to her vanity and tried taming her copper mane. 

"My Lady." His voice was low and hoarse. She heard the furs shuffle and footsteps. Soon strong and heavy arms leaned on her shoulders and his golden hand grazed her body at hip level. He was fully leaning on her. 

"Do you always wear the hand to bed?" 

"I thought you might mind if I didn't." She grabbed his right hand and pulled it to her eye level. "As beautiful as it is, I'd rather see you without it."

She didn't think much of her comment, it was a sincere request for his own comfort, but Jaime must have thought otherwise. He stood still for a while and then started removing the prosthetic slowly, Sansa still in between his hands. She helped him with the ties and pulled it from his hand. He tried pulling his stump away from her but she gripped his elbow firmly. 

"Does it bother you that I see it?" 

"It's- Nothing to look at." Sansa turned in his grip, guiding his hand back over her shoulder. He was dressed only up to his waist and the rest of his was nude. Dropping her eyes over his chest, her hands soon followed. "It's a part of you just as any other body part. We all have scars. You've seen mine." 

Kissing him at that moment would have been appropriate, drive her point even stronger, but she couldn't make herself lean in. The wine had worn off by then and even though she only had two cups the night before, she was much more aware of situations. So Jaime ended up being the one that kissed her and by the time he started playing with her lower lip she had no more willpower to protest. 

Jaime dressed with Sansa's help and he soon left her to finish with her hair. They spoke about walking into the Great Hall together, but ultimately Sansa decided against it. 

There was a knock at the door just as she pinned a lock of her hair at the back. 

Brienne had come to escort her to the war council Daenerys had called. They did not speak and Brienne seemed to be slightly disappointed in her. She would not be the only one. 

... 

As Sansa made her way out of the war council with the rest of her siblings, the maester rushed to them in the halls. "My Lady, a raven has arrived."

He handed her the scroll and waited for her to look at the seal. Her heart stopped. She looked at her siblings and took a deep breath. It had been a long awaited reply. 

"I will meet with you later. I have to read this."

Arya took a step towards her, obviously annoyed. "What is it?"

"Look at the seal." She tilted the scroll as her hands shook. Bran looked emotionless and motioned to have his wheelchair rolled away. Jon scrunched his brows in confusion. "The Tully trout?" 

Arya opened her mouth but closed it shortly after.

"I will meet you in the godswood, I promise."

She urged the maester to follow her and she rushed back into the war room. She struggled with the seal for a moment as strength left her body. "My Lady, should I do it?"

Her voice cracked. "Yes. Please." It was a desperate plea as she held back her tears.

The maester cleared his throat and read aloud. "I am glad to receive word from Winterfell. I hope that you are safe and well. Your raven has been passed on forward and I have sent my best men to carry out the task at hand. I hope to hear from you soon again."

"Has Lord Royce send any ravens yet?"

"Not yet, My Lady."

"He must be near Moat Cailin now."

"Close or already there. Should I send back word to Blackwater?"

"Are the ravens secure? Can we trust that they won't be intercepted?"

"They would have said if the seal came to them broken." She pondered for a moment and then reread the scroll. 

"Write this: You should ride North for a visit once your sickness passes." It was short, but they will understand what she meant. 

"Is that all?"

"He will understand what I mean. I don't want to risk anything if the ravens fail to make it to their destination. Is there anything else?"

"Now that the Northern men are marching South to aid Daenerys the rest of the Houses would like to travel back home. They ask for their rations so that they may rebuild and heal."

"Do we have accounts of what amounts they brought with them?"

"Yes, My Lady."

"Give them what they came here with."

"My Lady?"

"Winterfell has lost the most men out of all the Northern houses that were housed here. Most of the women in the crypts were either from Winterfell or one of the houses further North. Once all the allies and Jon depart Winterfell will house only two hundred. If even."

"Those are sad numbers, My Lady." She agreed in silence. These numbers have never been so small. That's was only one-third of what used to be a full castle before Father marched South.

"Are the bodies well taken care of?"

"I've had them lay in the snow where no one could see. They've been wrapped in cloth."


	18. Sansa

Ghost had accompanied her to the godswood just as Arya hurried past her. She wore a grim expression on her face and her grip on the needle sword kept tightening. "Arya?"

"You should talk to Jon." She sounded annoyed.

"What happened?"

"You'll hear for yourself. I have to get ready." Sansa grabbed her sister's hand then, forcing Arya to look her in the eyes. "Where are you going?"

"To King's Landing. You're not the only one with plans, you know. I'm going to kill Cersei."

Sansa let her go at that. She knew Arya wasn't playing jokes. "At least wait to talk to me before you leave. Bran told me something about what's going to happen in King's Landing."

Arya looked confused but she nodded and Sansa continued into the godswood. Jon was already there but Bran was nowhere in sight.

Approaching slowly, she noted that Jon was hunched over and petting Ghost. The direwolf didn't stop by her side as she talked to her sister.  She stopped just inches away and waited for him to look up at her. He didn't.

"Have you spoken to Arya?"

"She didn't say anything. Only that I need to talk to you myself. I'd assume because you're being stubborn with the Dragon Queen. Has Arya told you that we unanimously don't trust her?"

He hummed something that sounded like a confirmation. "Doesn't that mean anything to you? Your whole family is against her and yet you're still-"

"She's my family just as much."

"Don't tell me you plan on marrying her." It was a horrible thing to ever consider. Sansa didn't want Jon to marry Daenerys. She was just unsure if it was for her sake or his.

"Sansa, she's my family as is. I don't plan on marrying anyone anytime soon. Although I've heard some people suggest it."

"What do you mean?"

"She's my aunt. I'm Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen's legitimate son." The look in his eyes told her he was not messing about. The godswood spun and she had to sit by the tree to stop herself from falling. Jon was on his knees and by her side in an instant. He peered over her knees with a worried expression. He opened his mouth to speak but shut them quietly. They didn't speak as Sansa processed what has just been said.

"What do you mean? How do you know?"

"Robert would have killed me if he knew, so she gave me to Ned before bleeding to death. Bran saw it in one of his visions and Sam found documents at the citadel-" It felt like he was giving her a previously prepared speech that he'd been saying over and over again to different people.

He was cut off by Sansa as she threw her arms around him and pulled him close. Their words were barely whispers between echo other now. That sense of intimacy warmed her as she dragged her hand into his hair. It was improper but who cared at that moment. She couldn't tell what got her to feel so bold in a moment where she should be more shocked than anything else, but she felt relieved. He could have shared far worse. "Is this it? Is this what you have been keeping from me?"

"I didn't know how to tell you, I'm sorry."

"It's- It's alright." They were probably both equally surprised at that. Her father had been keeping this secret from his whole family since Jon was a baby, so Sansa couldn't blame him for taking some time to reflect on it. She would never be that selfish. But she was glad that he had told her. Even if it did feel like she was the last person to find out.

"You aren't mad?"

"I don't know what I am. Should I be happy for you? Should I cry? You're my cousin now." Shamefully that was the first thing that came to her mind. Jon was her cousin now. And loving your cousin was more acceptable than loving your brother. It was a false sense of relief.

"Aye, I'm a Targaryen." They let each other go, but Jon kept his hold on her forearms. He was probably worried that she'd run off. He pulled her up so they could stand.

"No, you're more Stark then you'll ever be Targaryen."

"I don't even feel the Targaryen bit, to be honest." He moved his shoulders around and gave a little smile. Jon might now have that dreadful surname, he might have their blood, but he was raised a Stark and he will in her eyes always remain a Stark. Cousin. Not brother.

"Does Daenerys know?" If she did there would certainly be trouble. Jon's life could be even more in danger now.

He nodded. Sansa frowned. When they were fighting for Winterfell she told him that Robb and Father had made stupid mistakes in the past that he would have to learn to avoid. And there he was, making another Stark mistake.

"What did she say?"

"She wasn't happy about it. I'm her nephew now. That changes everything for me." That was unsurprising.

"Tragaryens are known to marry family to keep the bloodlines pure. Nothing has probably changed for her."

He didn't say anything at that. Just looked to the weirwood tree with a worried expression.

"You shouldn't have told her."

"I might not be Ned Stark's son but I was raised like one. He taught me to be honourable. I couldn't have kept it to myself, I'm the only family she's got." She held back so many things to lecture him about.

"She'll see you as a threat to the throne."

"I don't want it. I've already knelt to her. I'm marching South to prove I mean to aid her cause. Once it's done I will return North."

"That won't stop her. You're a threat to her as long as you're alive and now that you've told me so am I."

"That's why you need to promise me that you won't tell anyone. She can't know that you've been told." He was more worried about her wellbeing than his own. It was a lovely sentiment, but Sansa knew that the only person who was truly in danger was Jon. He was foolish enough to think that giving Daenerys his word about never wanting to claim the throne would be enough, but the way she had seen the Dragon Queen, she knew one day, if the cards were stacked against her enough, she'll want Jon dead. Hearing Tyrion speak about what she's done so far to get to Westeros, Jon was just a small little obstacle easily eradicated.

"You have to claim what is your birthright." She would help him. The Vale, North and Riverrun would all back up his claim because she'd advocate for him. More could be persuaded to back Jon if they knew of his true parentage.

"I'm coming home soon. I'm doing it for you and the North." She bit her lower lip. The words were sweet, coming from Jon, but she knew that he meant them differently than she wished he did. Still, she hoped for something more. "For me?"

"Yes, I won't follow her anywhere else after she claims the throne. You'll be in too much of a risk. I know you won't ever hand over the North, Bran has told me. You need me here to keep you safe."

"I've told you that I will honour your wish. The North is hers as long as you want it to be."

"And if it's forever?"

"Then we'll lose you again if any other realm ever decides to rebel. She'll call on you."

"There's nothing I can do now."

"There is, but since you won't even consider it-"

"Sansa. You haven't sworn to keep this to yourself."

"I swear." She didn't know if she truly meant to keep the promise. If it ever came to it, she would break it to keep him alive.

Jon resumed petting Ghost again, burying his hands in his thick, long, white coat at the neck.

"What about Jaime Lannister?" He didn't look at her as he asked, but she heard the strain and disgust as he spoke the Kingslayer's name. She found herself hoping it was his jealousy that made him ask. 

Sansa cleared her throat and tried acting indifferent. "What about him?" 

"I saw you last night. I saw what happened between you two. Did he touch you after?" 

She saw him swallow hard and clench his jaw as if the questions he was asking physically hurt him. 

"You could have stopped it. Why didn't you?" 

"I can't deny you something you want, you've said it yourself. Even if it does bother me. You deserve better." 

She didn't really know what to say to that. Did she even deserve anyone at that point? She had gone through two marriages before she even turned Mother's age when she got married to Father. She had manipulated many people since her time in King's Landing. She had done many bad, dishonourable deeds in the past, quite on par with what Jaime had done. That's why they were drawn to each other, wasn't it? Their love for their siblings had sparked interest and their mutual hate for themselves is what drove them into each other's arms. 

But Jon wasn't her sibling anymore. She would never dare try to deepen their relationship even now, but she wondered what that meant for her and Jaime now. 

"You don't know what I deserve."

"I know it's a lot more than what he can offer you. He's twice your age. You should marry a knight like you've made Robb always play as." 

"I'm not marrying him, Jon."

"Is that supposed to make me feel any better. Jaime Lannister gets to lay with my sist- cousin, and he isn't even honouring her the way he should." That made her roll her eyes at him. She wasn't a little girl anymore, he knew that. 

"Let's not fight today." He wanted to say something more, but he forced his thoughts back and opened his arms. "Give me a hug.

Sansa stepped into his embrace and buried her hands in his fur coat that she made for him. It was good that he still wore it. A part of her was going South with him

"This is goodbye for now. I promise to come back North as soon as I can." 

To the North. Not to her.


	19. Sansa

"Lord Varys." 

Sansa stumbled into Varys on her way to the library, where she knew Bran and Arya were waiting for her. 

Jon was already marching South, Daenerys and her company would be leaving Winterfell the next day and soon she'll be walking through the empty corridors wishing she'd stumble into someone. But right now she didn't want to interact with anyone besides the people she was heading to meet. 

Varys wore his usual sly smile and stood in her path, completely unaware that she was in a hurry. 

"Lady Sansa, have you come to bid me farewell?" 

"Yes," she lied. "What kind of a host would I be if I didn't send off my guest with a kind word." 

"And a beautiful smile, My Lady."

"Thank you." Maybe it was the way he carried himself now that they were alone, without Jaime to interfere, but she felt a request hang in her head. Varys had passed her now and she called out to him. "I'd like to ask a favour." 

"Oh, interesting. I'll do want I can my Lady, only if you'd be kind enough to return it." When he turned around again she wanted to take back everything that she had said. His obviously fake smile annoyed her more than anything else did that day and she gritted her teeth together to get through this interaction. 

"I would like to know if you could write to me about my brother."

"May I enquire what for?" 

"I care about my brother's life. I would like to know if he is being treated fairly and if an accident were to befall him." 

"Can't he write to you himself?" 

"I would imagine he'd get quite busy once he gets to Dragonstone. I wouldn't want to burden him any further." 

"I am willing to grant you that request, My Lady. If only you could confirm what I've heard whispering in the night." 

"You'll do something for me as long as I confirm a rumour?" It was an odd exchange. Varys could have easily demanded more from her. She would never bring it up to him though. If this little confirmation was all he wanted, she'll gladly settle it. 

"It's a very important thing. You see, whether or not this is true could impact the outcome of this war." She swallowed. What could he hear in Winterfell that was so important? 

She urged him to continue. 

"Is Jon Snow truly the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen?" She felt like the winds had knocked her over. Pulling her face into a cold expression and entwining her hands on her back, she tried hiding from Varys that he had shocked her. The look on his face told her that he already knew the answer, he was just taunting her. What she couldn't understand was why was he telling her that he knew Jon's secret. 

They stood in silence for quite a while. Varys seemed content with waiting on her reply. She scrunched her brows together trying to remember what Bran told her and their last conversation. After some digging through her memory she finally understood what Varys had subtly asked. 

"He has knelt to the Queen and pledged his sword to her cause. He doesn't want to be King." 

"You and I both know that he would have no choice if the word ever got out. Which would cause great harm to the realm and, by extension, Jon himself." Sansa understood a threat when she heard one. Bran had been wrong. Varys wasn't to be trusted. He wanted her to take Jon's secret to the grave. 

"He fights for the realm and the North. Nothing more. Daenerys will have her Iron Throne as long as his life is safe." 

Varys gave her a fake chuckle and folded his hands over his front. "So you do plan on having the world know who Jon snow really is." 

She realized that she had spoken too much and revealed too soon what she had been thinking about. Frantically trying to mend the damage she stepped around Varys to avoid his gaze. "I-"

Varys pulled a scroll from his sleeve and she stared at the seal. "Did you know that Robb Stark legitimised Jon before his death and made him heir to Winterfell? If we were to take that into account, he's not the only Warden of the North but also Lord of Winterfell." 

"Jon would never take Winterfell from me." It was a shakiness in her voice that must have softened Varys. He had played her like a fool and they both knew it. Baelish would have frowned on this exchange. 

"I'm sure. He loves you very much, I've noticed." 

Sansa couldn't trust herself to speak again. Her mind was elsewhere now, her thoughts rapidly trying to make sense of where she slipped up, what caused her to do it. It wasn't until Varys placed a hand on hers that she finally looked him in the eye again. 

"I will keep my promise and inform you of your cousin's health to the best of my ability, but I do have one more request." She knew going to Varys was a bad idea, but Bran had whispered into her ear once that he could be trusted far more than Tyrion. Stupid her for not listening to herself first. 

"That wasn't what I agreed to." 

"You can always go to Tyrion, My Lady."

She sighed. She couldn't risk Tyrion questioning her as Varys had. "What do you want of me?" 

"If Jon were ever to claim the Iron Throne for himself, I'd like to see you use your words to help me sit on the council and reclaim my title as Master of Whispers."

"Is it that important to you?" 

"I've served many Kings before Daenerys, including Joffrey and Robert. I'd like to continue serving the realm from where I feel most comfortable." 

"You have my word, Lord Varys." 

"Goodnight, Lady Sansa." And with that, he left her to stand in the corridor all by herself. She would have turned around in her state and gone to her room, but Arya's voice startled her. 

"Are you going to stand there like an idiot or come to the library?" 

Sansa took her seat next to Bran's wheelchair and Arya sat across from her. Playing with her gloves, Sansa's mind trailed off back to her exchange with Varys. 

"So? What have you got to tell me?" 

Bran looked at her and she motioned him to speak. 

"It's about a vision I had recently." Arya leaned over the table. He sparked her interest. "Yes?" 

"I saw a dragon, burning everything from Winterfell to Dorne."

"Jon's queen?" Sansa nodded. "She's going to burn everything under the pretence that she's freeing everyone. She's going to burn thousands in King's Landing." 

For just a moment Arya's face looked worried, then she frowned and looked at Bran. "You want me to kill her?" 

"Yes. You have to."

"Do you know when I can get to her? How?" Bran looked at Sansa and she shifted in her seat. It made her feel uneasy talking about killing people. She didn't like ending lives, but she knew what she was doing it for. For who.

"Bran says that she'll be too guarded on Dragonstone. He thinks that you could - you could-" It was harder saying out loud now than thinking it over in her brain. Maybe they were asking too much of Arya. 

"Spit it out already."

"I'm not used to talking about killing people, Arya. And this is especially hard to say."

Guilt settled in her heart as she pondered over what she was about to say. She couldn't really believe that she was the one saying these things and not Bran. It was all from his visions anyway. 

"Bran says that you could do it by taking the face of her War Commander the night before she attacks King's Landing and then stabbing her once she has won."

"After she kills thousands? Are you mad?" Arya stood abruptly and Sansa followed, completely understanding her sister's frustration. That was her reaction at first before Bran fully explained the situation. It took Sansa two days to fully understand that she couldn't be touched before her fight. 

"Why can't I do it before?" They both looked at their brother, Sansa pleading him to help her explain properly, but he didn't say anything. He just stared ahead. "I had the same feeling, but Bran says that it'll be the only time she'll be unguarded. Any other time she's surrounded with guards, you can't get to her or her Commander."

"There has to be a way." Sansa placed her hand on Bran's shoulder. He looked at her then, but his eyes were empty.

"Bran, are you sure we can't do anything before?"

"You can save some lives as her Commander. You can help the people escape, but you can't kill her before she sets King's Landing on fire."

"Why not?"

"It has to be."

"That's a horrible thing to say." Arya crossed her hands over her chest but she didn't object to anything Bran said.

"You can't stop her." Bran's voice was completely empty of emotion and it sent shivers up Sansa's spine. Her voice had been shaky since they started talking about the deaths that will soon happen in Westeros. Arya's never even faltered in tone and she wondered if her sister had been stripped of emotion like Bran.

"Arya please, if you don't do it then Jon will and it'll destroy him."

"What?" There was a crack in her voice now. They both cared about Jon more than they should have, both in different ways, and Sansa knew Arya wouldn't think twice before jumping to help him.

"Jon is- He's going to stab her and it's going to tear everything apart. He's going to hate us. He's going to hate himself. He's going to hate me." She felt salt on her lips as tears fell and things blurred around her. It was already painful thinking that so many lives would be lost, but she couldn't let Jon get hurt. No matter what she had to do to save him.

"Why would Jon kill her?" Arya's voice was softer now and Sansa wiped her eyes, trying to pull herself together again.

"She'll go mad. We can't stop her from going crazy or burning King's Landing, but we can stop her from burning the rest of Westeros."

"How long have you known?"

"The night before the pyre." There was no way that Arya would be satisfied with the answer, but she could only be honest with her siblings.

"And you tell me this now?"

"I was reluctant to tell you. What if you didn't want to hear it? I didn't want you to know this and have to go through the same emotions I did."

"What are you worried about?"

"Knowing that people will die and not doing anything about it."

"Can you do anything to help King's Landing?"

She shook her head and Arya shrugged. "Then what's the point in stressing out about it? If I can't get to her before, then I'll get to her after and I'll make sure that I save as many as I can."

"Bran?"

"People have to see her for who she is or we risk another war. More dead bodies than the length of the horizon."

"Is this a prophecy or something?"

"It is. That's why you can't kill her before it's fulfilled."

Sansa stood and stepped around her chair. Nobody looked at her or acknowledged that she rose. Arya had focused all her attention on Bran. "Bran, will you talk her through it?"

"Where are you going?"

"To sleep. I'm tired."

Arya nodded but she didn't say else. It was hard having two siblings around that refused to show emotions and a younger brother who claimed he was a three-eyed raven and could see the past and future.

They all experienced different things in life once they parted ways and Sansa noticed that together they seemed stronger. Each had their own flaws but they fixed each other nicely.

Father always said 'the lone wolf dies but the pack survives'.


	20. Jaime

Jaime spread out on his chair, legs crossed and resting on another chair opposite his. His arms were behind his back, trying to make his head rest while listening to Tyrion and his endeavours in Essos. They had been sitting in an old remote tavern for most of the day after the war council ended, to which Jaime was prohibited from going. Tyrion insisted on getting a drink outside Winterfell walls as soon as he knocked on his door, yet he did not tell Jaime why exactly they needed to travel out.

Once they sat and filled their bellies with wine and fish stew with roots and carrots, the only thing the tavern had to offer them as a meal. It was a horrible, tasteless thing, but wine and mead helped them wash it down.

He wanted to go back. Never thought he'd ever want to go back to Winterfell, but after listening to the Northern clatter around him and Tyrion he needed to go back to those dim and empty corridors.

Tyrion cleared his throat after a long pause between them and he looked as if he got another smart thing to say. "I've been told that you had quite the feast the other night, and I don't mean the food."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Jaime shifted in his seat as nonchalantly as he could. Tyrion had stumbled on a touchy subject he wanted to avoid talking about.

"Sansa's tongue. I would presume other parts of her as well." Those weren't questions Jaime noted to himself. Whoever told his brother about what happened between him and Sansa must have been thorough. Instead of asking him about his source of information, he rather returned to his wine. Asking him anything would only give the sly Tyrion leverage to demand answers.

Before his lips reached the wooden cup a hand plucked it from his grasp. Wine spilt all over the table as Tyrion put it down drunkenly. "Have you ever heard of the word 'discretion'?"

With only a slight pause that gave no room for a reply, his brother continued. "No? How about 'private'? Or maybe-"

"I think I underst-"

"-not shoving your tongue down her throat in the middle of a feast'?" There was a strain of frustration in his voice and Jaime couldn't quite understand why Tyrion would be so distraught over the whole thing.

Their cups were refilled and Jaime motioned the lady who owned the establishment that they needed more wine at their table. They were racking up quite a bill.

As the cups hit together in a toast, they made a wooden clank and they drank to women. They've already drank to other stupid things. Their first two toasts were inspired by the people around them. Tyrion had toasted to the hairy man that he thought looked like an unburnt and more cheerful Sandor and Jaime toasted to getting laid, just to spite his brother.

It had all backfired on him as Tyrion started asking more and more about Sansa.

"I'm sad to say that I wasn't present to-"

"A real tragedy."

"Pull my chair closer, will you." Jaime raised his brow but pulled his brother's chair closer like he was asked. The wood wailed against the stone floor and they both immediately regretted the decision. All eyes turned on them and they barely stopped their laughter. It was one of the few times they had a burst out laughing in the past few years.

The northerners turned away with unanimous grunts and head shakes.

Tyrion wiped at his eyes and settled back into his seat, voice high pitched as he tried to contain himself. He leaned in to speak to him quietly. "Pray tell, how is she? In bed, I mean."

Jaime's smiled dropped and he straightened in his seat. He could have gloated about Sansa to Tyrion as he had every right to, but it didn't seem right. She was slowly starting to trust him with things, there's no way he'd ruin that by acting like a little teen fool. "I don't think that's any of your concern."

Tyrion furrowed his brows and forced his face into a pout. "I haven't had a woman for years. Have some pity, give me a morsel."

"No."

His brother threw his hands out and pointed at him. "I demand to know. She was my wife at some point."

As far as I understand you're still married. Your marriage wasn't annulled properly." Jaime stated matter-of-factly and played with his cup. He tapped his golden hand over the top, ignoring Tyrion's whiny complaints.

"So you're sleeping with my wife? My own brother! Why must you always keep it in the family?"

He raised his hand at his groaning brother. "Careful."

Tyrion rolled his eyes only joking, but he started swaying soon after. They've both had too much to drink if Tyrion, someone who drinks alcohol by the gallons, was swaying. Jaime took their cups as best as he could with only one hand and put it on the edge of the table, furthest to Tyrion. That upset his brother, who looked at him annoyed and slipped off his chair to get back what was stolen. "Jaime, drink, lighten up. I won't force you to tell me any details, as much as it pains me, but I do have other questions."

Jaime snatched his brother's cup before his short legs carried him around the table and he chuckled at the way he was being looked at. "Ask away."

"Why her?"

"What do you mean?"

"Seems a bit odd, don't you think? Given our family history with hers, I'd think she'd want to impale you on something."

While Tyrion was obviously only curious about the whole thing, his comments left a sour taste in Jaime's mouth. Sansa had hated him for something that he had no part in. It took a while for her to understand that he wasn't an extension of Cersei. He mused at the thought and pulled his feet of the chair. "I've never harmed her, there's no reason for her to hate me."

"And her brother Bran is in a wheelchair because he's tired of walking?"

It was a low blow Tyrion resorted to.

"What does it matter now?" Jaime tapped on the table with his fingers and looked ahead.

"I care about you both. You're my brother and she is as far as I've known her, a wonderful girl, but your union is-"

"It's not a union. We slept together, that's all." It came out a bit harsher than intended and Tyrion moved back a bit, probably thinking Jaime was angry at him.

"You told me you've never slept with anyone else besides Cersei. You can't blame me for wondering why exactly Sansa sparked your interest."

'Because we both love our siblings' was the reply on the tip of his tongue but he swallowed it back, knowing it wasn't his secret to tell.

In truth when he came to her the other night, he expected to lay with her and think of Cersei. And he found himself immensely terrified that he didn't. After the whole thing he did compare her to Cersei, but it was with a conclusion that he felt better tending to Sansa than Cersei. It was much more rewarding seeing and hearing Sansa enjoy herself. She even complimented him in a moment of weakness when he thought his hand might become an issue. Something Cersei never did.

The only thing that had left him bitter was the thoughts he was left to tend to on his own. He told Tyrion they had only slept together in the heat of the night as they drank too much wine and were in a way forced to couple up, seeing everyone else enjoy other people's company. He would have been perfectly happy if that were true. But he wanted to see if Sansa would invite him into her bed again.

He was forced to brush it off, but he did not want to.

He finally looked back at his brother as he awaited Jaime’s reply, wondering what sly remark would he have if Jaime told him about what he truly thought of the whole situation. “I- She kept me occupied and I returned the favour. That’s it.”

“Occupied? From thinking about Cersei? That’s what you’re using her for?”

“I think she’s well aware of my intentions. You don’t have to worry about her too much, she can handle herself.” Jaime realized as he said it, that both Brienne and Tyrion had been worrying about Sansa like she was a babe. He seemed to be the only one fully aware of her capabilities. Granted, he didn’t care much what Sansa was doing outside of the bedroom, but he still had faith in her. She expected him to be good, unlike his family, and he was certain that she was doing everything right in her lane.

“She’s a smart girl, I have no doubt that she can handle anything. I’m more worried about you.”

He shuffled in his chair and leaned his head back. “What about me?”

There was something soft in the way Tyrion spoke, but Jaime didn’t pay much attention to it. He stood to leave and his brother followed, still making an effort to talk. “Seeking the comforting hands of Sansa Stark doesn’t seem like a smart thing to do, even by your standards.”

Jaime rolled his eyes as he fastened the sword around his hip. Tyrion had started counting money to pay for their meals.

“Did you know Jon Snow came to me the other day? He wanted to talk about you, asking me if I knew what kind of game you were playing.”

“Is he still a virgin? Is that why he’s so nosy?” They chuckled and stepped around the table.

“Who’s still a virgin?”

They both stopped in their tracks and looked at where the voice came from. “Bronn?”


	21. Jaime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they did Bronn dirty

"Sit your pretty little asses back down. I want a chat." The most overpaid sellsword in Westeros pointed a lion-engraved crossbow at them. 

Tyrion took a step back and Jaime followed just in case Bronn was being serious. Tyrion raised his hands and looked Bronn up and down. "Ser Bronn of the Blackwater. Where's your drink? What are you- What are you doing up North? You're supposed to be South."

Bronn motioned to Jaime to put his sword from his belt and sit. He took his time with the belt, eyeing the crossbow the whole time. It was a Lannister crossbow with arrows just like the ones Tyrion shot at their father. If Bronn had a crossbow on him like that, he either stole it or he was given it by someone close to a Lannister. He sat down after Tyrion did, but he angled his body so that he could reach for his sword fast if it turned out to be necessary. 

Bronn sat into a chair across from them and grabbed a half-full cup. His crossbow was still pointed at Jaime. "You boys are a pair of gold-plated cunts. You know that?" 

"Well we've never been called a pair, but sure," Tyrion stated, looking at Jaime who kept his eyes firmly planted on that crossbow. Bronn laughed and took a swing of the wine. 

"Good to see you've still got your wits about you. Now, let's get to business. Your sister sent me."

"Cersei? Who would have thought she was still thinking about me." Tyrion said sarcastically. He eyed his brother and turned to Bronn. "While I understand that she'd still think about Jaime, I wonder what reminded her of me." 

"Do I look like someone she confides with? She paid me to do my job and here I am. Although I wouldn't mind confiding with that cunt of hers." 

Jaime flinched towards his sword, but Bronn beat him to it, kicking it out of their way. 

"Not so fast, blonde toff. You couldn't do it on your best day and your best days are long gone." He let the front of his weapon rest on the table, the roaring lion at the tip illuminated by the candle fire. He eased back into his chair and Jaime followed, reluctant. "I wish I had come sooner, I heard that you were getting properly fucked again."

"Only slightly." Jaime's reply was dry and he balled his hand into a fist to stop himself from launching at Bronn. There seemed to be no love between them at that moment and Jaime wondered if it were possible that Bronn had helped him all this time just for the money. He had been painted a different picture while they were in the Riverlands. 

Tyrion cleared his throat. "He's so far been doing some of the fucking too." 

"Really? The tall blonde knight? Isn't that like looking in the mirror?"

For a second Jaime completely forgot his thoughts as he tried figuring out what Bronn meant. "Brienne? Oh no, no. She's- No, it's none-" 

"So what exactly did our loving sister send you here for?" 

"To kill you two fucks. I heard you've been siding with the enemy. Colour me shocked, Jaime Lannister joined to fight alongside a dragon against the-" 

"I didn't join her in her fight for King's Landing, I've fought on the side of the living. That's it."

"So you're heading South now?" 

"I haven't yet- I don't-" 

"I don't blame ya. I knew your sister was dead the second I saw those dragons, as far as it matters to me I'd do the same."

"Then why are you here?" Tyrion leaned forward in his chair. Jaime saw how firmly he gripped the armrests. 

"The odds change if the Dragon Queen's Hand turns up dead. Maybe a few of her top generals get picked off one by one." Bronn pulled his legs up and rested them against the empty chair next to him, his body turning towards Tyrion now. He looked so casual as if he wasn't threatening them with a crossbow. 

"We made a deal long ago. Do you remember?" Jaime could sense a bit of a shake in Tyrion's voice. He never liked being threatened and he especially didn't like that Bronn was the one doing the threatening. 

"If anyone offered me money to kill you, you'd pay me double." Bronn smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He set the crossbow fully down on the table and put his hand off the trigger. Jaime shifted in his seat. The crossbow was pointed at him and it made him feel extremely uneasy. It could go off by mistake. Accidents happen all the time. 

"What did she offer you?" 

Jaime was only barely paying attention to their conversation. He looked around the tavern in case anyone was looking, but it seemed like all the men had dispersed. He hadn't noticed anyone leave. 

"Riverrun. Nice big castle, good lands, plenty of peasants who do what they're told." 

"Riverrun? She doesn't own Riverrun."

"She's the Queen, isn't she? I suppose she can get whatever she wants. Besides, the Tullys are dead, aren't they." 

"And so are the Freys. Riverrun is, yet again, in the hands of people who would like to claim it." Jaime raised a brow at Tyrion. He hadn't heard anything about Riverrun since he left Cersei's side. If the Tullys were dead then who else would want to claim it. 

"Like who?" 

Tyrion turned to his brother and shrugged. "I don't know, I've only spoken to Sansa about it briefly."

What exactly did Sansa know of Riverrun? It used to belong to her family, but those times had past and unless she wanted to reclaim it, Jaime couldn't understand why she'd discuss it with Tyrion. 

Bronn yet again broke his train of thought. "Sansa Stark? The little red-haired twat of a girl you married? For fuck' sake, the North is overrun by Lannisters now. You plan on moving your house here? I'll take Casterly Rock off your hands if you'd like."

Jaime glared at him. The way he spoke of Sansa and his home did not feel right to him.

But he was getting impatient with all the talking. He tapped on the table with his golden hand. "Are you going to kill us or not?"

"Jaime! I'd like to not die."

Bronn scrunched his face and turned to Tyrion. "I'm waiting to hear your offer."

"I thought we were friends."

It was Jaime who spoke what was probably in Tyrion's mind as well. All that time they spent together going to Dorne and The Reach, he had thought they developed a friendship. 

"Sorry to disappoint, pretty boy. I've never fancied ya that much. Made me work too hard. Maybe Tyrion, but  I've shovelled Lannister shit year after year. And what do I have to show?" 

"You're shovelling Lannister shit right now."

"Aye, but I'm getting paid better." 

"You're a knight and your pockets are filled with gold. Lots and lots of it." 

"And that title's worth as much as a blond hair from your brother's ballsack. My pockets are only half full because you two kept forgetting to pay me." 

"We've paid you." Jaime sneered. 

"Not as much as I'd have liked. So, what's double Riverrun?" 

"Highgarden. You could be Lord of the Reach."

It was a fast reply and Jaime was sure Tyrion had not thought it through. "Highgarden? Are you mad?" 

"It's better than being dead." Tyrion sounded dead-serious. 

Jaime couldn't hold back a chuckle. If Bron truly wanted to end their lives, he wouldn't have spent so much time talking to them. He leaned closer to his brother but Tyrion was staring at Bronn with intent. "He's not going to kill us." 

"Give me your word."

"You have my word."

Jaime sank into his chair. He couldn't believe Tyrion had just offered him The Reach. A sellsword could never inherit such a land, much less run it properly. Bronn was going to shit all over them. 

But Bronn seemed pleased. Definitely the only one out of the three. Tyrion, while grateful to have made peace, looked on edge still. Jaime knew he could never keep his word. Highgarden was not his to take.

"See? Was that so hard?" 

"None of this means a thing until we take King's Landing. We ride South in the morning. We could use an officer with knowledge of the city's defences." 

 

Jaime stood to pick up his sword and Bronn chuckled. "Oh, no. No, my fighting days are done. I'll ride South with you for company, but you're on your own after we reach Harrenhal." He rubbed his hands together and smiled. "Now, what are we drinking?

"Nothing for me." Jaime fastened the belt around his waist for the second time since they came to the tavern. He worked fast, wanting to get away from there. Sansa would probably wonder why she hadn't seen him all day. She'd think he was avoiding her.

His hands stilled on his hilt as he heard Tyrion mention Bronn's full knightly title. He turned to the table again. "Has Sansa Stark ever written you a raven?"

"Why? Has she gotten sick of the crippled company you two tend to offer?"

"No, I'm just wondering. She had mentioned Blackwater once."

"Well, I'll certainly pay her a visit. I'd imagine she'd have use of me." He looked at Tyrion. "Being that she's a Lannister."

"No, I just- Nevermind."

Jaime walked out of there without another word. He saddled on his horse and turned back to Winterfell. The snow began to fall again and as he neared the main gates he looked up at the copper locks.

She was turned away, but he hoped that she was waiting for him.


	22. Jaime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for all the late chapters recently, I've lost a lot of motivation due to family issues. I hope I can get back into updating every two days, but I'd rather not make promises.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one.

As Jaime dismounted his horse and had it brought to the stables Sansa Stark was long gone from her spot at the lookout position above the main southern gates. He looked around if she was anywhere else in sight. All around him were only Unsullied soldiers preparing themselves for an early morning departure. Sansa was forced into providing food and horses for the trip they were making to White Harbour although she had warned the Dragon Queen that her own kin will starve if she is to give them what Daenerys had first asked for.

"My people will starve here-"

"You will be repaid once I sit on the iron throne." Daenerys had been adamant that she needed her Unsullied army well fed.

"And how long will that take? My people can't survive on air and wait for you to-"

"Our people."

And that had been the end of the conversation. Sansa swallowed all the protest and was forced to oblige.

Jaime thought of knocking on her door, but he knew that the castle was still wide awake and he would be raising massive suspicion if he were seen heading there. So he made for his chambers instead. Looking up at the sky he noted that it was eerily similar to the first night he came to Winterfell. The snow was falling and the flakes seemed huge compared to what he had seen in previous winters.

Luckily there were no winds blowing. Everything was grey and dull since their fight with the undead. The men kept to themselves a lot more than before. Everything was quiet as Jaime set out to the godswood.

He did not believe in the old gods or any other, but Sansa had spent more time in the godswood than anywhere else in Winterfell and he had seen her pray even though she had told him she didn't believe any more than he did. She ventured there when she needed peace and quiet and wished to be unbothered, sometimes even sending Jaime and Brienne away, but he still saw her pray many times.

The ground was still stained by blood here and there and as much as people tried scraping it away, it still stood out to Jaime just as well. The walls were bathed in blood, but those came clean easier. It had all haunted him as he laid awake at night. He had been on many battlefields, but none came close to the horror of dead bodies piled on top of each other, the peaks reaching to the top of Winterfell's archways and even higher.

He stepped through the gateway into the godswood, his hair instantly filled with snow and he looked around for those copper locks his mind had learned to seek out. The red leaves of the weirwood tree made her hair look more orange in contrast. She didn't look at him as he approached and he made sure to make himself known.

His legs shivered slightly and he couldn't tell if it was because of the cold, the hunger or her. The meals weren't as big as he had been used to in King's Landing and it had slowly started to show.

Sansa looked quite small as she knelt in front of the tree, bare hands intertwined in front of her face. Her exposed skin was red from the cold and snow and he was sure that it must have been extremely painful for her. He wore gloves and he still had to warm his hands under the fur cloak she had gifted him.

He sighed and a small cloud of warm air came from his mouth.

"My Lady, it's past midnight. You should get some rest."

Sansa pulled her hood up and rose. "I could have used you earlier."

He wasn't sure if she meant to use him sexually or as her sword. He didn't want to assume. Sansa wasn't praying without reason and usually, she was in a bad mood when she did so.

He cleared his throat and took a step forward." I'm sorry. Tyrion insisted on leaving Winterfell for-"

"She wants to talk to you."

"About?" He knew right away who Sansa was referring to. He had no words to say to Daenerys Targaryen.

"Cersei. She doesn't trust Tyrion ever since he misjudged her about sending Lannister troops to fight the undead. She thinks you can tell her more than he ever could." Sansa was sarcastically hinting at something more than just Cersei's military planning.

Jaime frowned and swallowed down a knot in his throat. While he had decided to abandon his sister, he would never aid in her downfall. She was still his sister. His family. No matter how hard he tried to make himself believe otherwise, he still loved her.

"I have nothing to say to her." His voice must have given him away as Sansa finally turned to look at him. Her eyes were cold and she looked like a white walker against the red backdrop of the red leaves. Her lips were almost purple and he wondered how long she had been outside in the cold. When he left Winterfell with Tyrion she was already in the stables, mysteriously avoiding his gaze.

"You should speak to Bran soon." She gave him a look he couldn't understand what it meant. She looked like she was holding back a secret that involved him. The way her mouth turned into a smile made him feel like he was being ridiculed, but her eyes looked soft and apologetic almost.

He shook his head. "Let me escort you to your chambers."

"Actually," Sansa's voice became a sweet whisper as she inched closer. Jaime held his breath and watched her shakingly fidget with her hands. "I thought I could sleep with you tonight."

He had wanted this. Jaime had to remind himself that he had thought of her asking to share her bed once more. But given that the unspoken conversation of Cersei's death still lingered in his mind, he was on the edge of declining her. Until she locked eyes with him and only subtly licked her lips.

He had done worse before. He had fucked Cersei with even more horrendous things in the back of his mind. Sansa didn't have to wait long for a reply then. He was above her in a single step, mouth hastily on hers as she brought her hands under his coat and pulled him closer by his jerkin. Her lips were cold but he could taste a sweetness to them like she had just drank or ate something sweet a moment ago. He rested his golden hand on her shoulder and used his left to tilt her face upwards. After a hazy moment Sansa ended up pinned against the weirwood tree and his nostrils were flooded by the scent of wine and lemon cakes and damp wood.

Sansa yelped and he tried pulling back to see if she was hurt. She was the one that held him in place and he felt her track her hands down over his body. Her hands worked fast at his jerkin and soon at the laces on his breeches.

He broke their kiss and angled himself away from her just enough to look at what she was doing. The darkness of the night and the extra shade of the tree had made making out her features almost impossible. But the full moon had slipped through just enough for it to illuminate her eyes.

She eyed him through her eyelashes and continued her work on his laces. Anywhere else he would have enjoyed her enthusiasm, but they were outside and it was too cold. He grabbed her right wrist to stop her. She gave him a sheepish smile and he unintentionally tightened his hold. "Sansa, I-"

He would have continued if she hadn't pressed her palm against him. Swallowing back the rest of his protest, he dipped down onto her lips yet again. Her eagerness had provided him with enough heat under his stomach to disregard the flakes of wet snow in their hair and the fact that they were outside in the cold. Sansa was warm but their surroundings did little to spike his desire to take her against the tree.

He bit down on Sansa's lower lip and she moaned into his mouth. Her hand movement in his lower region picked up as he slowly moved his tongue along her lower lip. She exhaled deeply through the nose before parting her lips slightly and Jaime couldn't help but giggle. She had tickled his moustache.

Sansa pushed him back suddenly and he nearly stumbled over a root that was poking through the ground. Catching his balance he looked at her, ready to apologize for whatever it was that he did wrong. He didn't get much of his stuttering apology out before she bent over and started hastily picking up her skirts. Her breathing was quick and his only quickened as she exposed one of the thighs, the milky skin a painful contrast to her dark clothes.

"Jaime." It was a breathy, shivering and needy call and he matched it with his own. It was more of a painful groan and Sansa smiled, pulling him back ontop of her.

If he had more time he would have wondered why Sansa was so eager to have him touch her in the middle of the godswood, but if he was being completely honest with himself, at the moment he did not care.

Sansa dragged her nails over his beard and under his jaw and Jaime pulled her leg up around his waist. His good hand trailed up her inner thigh until he felt something that halted his hand and breathing. Sansa wasn't wearing any smallclothes. He felt shivers throughout his body and if there was any doubt before, he was then fully erect by the revelation. Luckily Sansa had pulled on his laces enough for him to not feel completely restrained by his breeches.

He rested his head in the crook of her neck and growled into her ear. "What would the gods say?"

She didn't answer. There were only shaky laboured breaths coming from her pale pink lips as Jaime returned the favour and slowly, with light pressure, caressed her folds. She pulled on his hair and bit into his dressed shoulder as he quickened his pace.

"Sansa, let go. I want to hear you."

The position of power changed as she gave an animalistic whine and threw her head back against the tree, her hair falling everywhere. She met his eye and smiled.

He was sure the gods didn't exist by the end of the night. If they did, they would have stricken him down where he stood.


	23. Jaime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to check out [lucife56](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucife56/pseuds/lucife56) and the sketch that was made for this story titled "Comfort". I was blown away by how amazing it is!

Jaime, with his arms crossed, slouched over one of the crenels littered across the walls. Sansa stood by his side as they watched the two dragons fly around Winterfell, only the darker one carrying a passenger. They heard the other one had taken a great deal of damage during the fight with the Night King and that it was its first time flying since. Jaime sighed and looked at Sansa with a small smirk ghosting on his lips. "There goes your chance to ride a dragon."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. Looking at the dragons as they circled the line of soldiers leaving Winterfell, Jaime could see there was something else in Sansa's mind. The intensity of her stare wanted him to ask her more about it, but he knew she wouldn't answer. Their conversation had never been very personal and besides standing next to him while he was guarding her and sleeping with him, they didn't really spend much time together.

Earlier that morning she had thrown him out of her bed as Brienne walked in with a report regarding the Dragon Queen. They escorted her straight into the maester's chamber and then into the library, where she had made space for herself to conduct Winterfell's business. Sansa was very careful with information. She didn't tell anyone much, he noticed. The long briefing of information he was once present to between the maester and Sansa turned into tiny breadcrumbs as she spoke to others. It was like listening to Tywin or Cersei at some points.

And once the Dragon Queen announced their departure, things started to happen even more often. Sansa pulled on her straight face as she walked through Winterfell and pulled at her stings at the last moment.

Jaime wanted to engage her about it, but he did not want to come across as a spying spider like Varys was. He thought Sansa would have confided with him by then, but his irritation only grew as she continued to keep her lips sealed.

He turned back to the dragons with a sigh. All they seemed to be doing was sighing. Another thing Jaime seemed to be irritated by. "There goes my chance to ride a Dragon Queen."

"Like you ever had a shot."

"Careful, if you joke too much you'll come across as jealous." He hoped to see some indication of jealousy, but Sansa held her face firmly emotionless.

"You should talk to Tyrion. Have him put in a good word for you to Daenerys."

"I'm tempted."

"Jaime," he turned to see Tyrion ascending the stairs. Jaime noticed that he was battling a frown on his face. He gave them a half-assed smile and turned to Sansa as she was still starring down Daenerys's dragons. "My Lady. I've come to say goodbye. It's been wonderful here in Winterfell-"

"We were on the verge of dying." Jamie snorted.

"Yes, and that has opened my eyes to the world. I shall never take anything for granted ever again."

"Why her?" She finally looked at Tyrion with eyebrows knitted close together.

"You can't argue with dragons." Even though what Jaime said was true, he received a glare from both of them.

"I beg your pardon, My Lady. I don't think I understand."

"Dragons don't mean she'll be a good queen." She looked at Jaime then, but she spoke to his brother in truth.

"You seem determined to dislike her." Tyrion took a step closer. "A good relationship between the Iron Throne and the North has been the core of every peaceful, prosperous reign we've ever known."

Jaime finally turned his whole body around to view the exchange in its entirety. He took notice of how Tyrion was fidgeting with his hands. They were planted firmly by his side and even as he moved his body when speaking, he stood stiff. On occasions, he looked to Jaime for help but received none. Jaime didn't want to be on the losing side. Even when Tyrion had the best of strategies planned, they always dissolved once he was faced with Sansa's stubbornness. He denied it, but Jaime saw the soft spot he had for her.

"Jon will be Warden of the North, so a good relationship seems likely." It was a pre-prepared response by the way she sang it. Even if she didn't share anything with Jaime, he was still observing her when she was conducting business.

"I don't expect him to spend much time here going forward."

Sansa looked at Tyrion with a small smirk as if what he just said was one of his witty remarks he served at meals. Tyrion seemed to completely miss it as he continued. "With Jon in the capital, you'll be the true power in the North. I'd feel much better about the future if I left here today believing that you and Daenerys were allies."

"Your queen-"

"She's your queen too. You don't have to be her friend, but why provoke her? How is that in the best interest of your family or the North, or-?"

"You're afraid of her."

"I feel bad for her. She has gone through a lot to get to Westeros and so far she has yet to receive a warm welcome. How would you feel?"

Jaime snorted yet again. "You want to make her queen because you feel bad for her?"

"No, I-"

He was cut off by Sansa as she cleared her throat. She seemed to dislike Jaime's and Tyrion's bather. "I don't want Jon to go down there. The men in my family don't do well in the capital."

"No, but as your brother once told me, he's not a Stark."

She let out a deep sigh that made the brothers look at each other, but she gave no reply.

Jaime pushed himself off the crenel and took a hesitant step towards her. "Sansa, are you alright?"

The look she directed at him as a reply was distant and void of any emotion. "My-"

She looked at her feet. "My brother is a Stark, whether he claims the name or not. He- he will always be a Stark no matter what happens."

That was one of the first times Jaime had seen her so unconvinced with her own words. She spoke with hesitation and a slight shake in her voice.

"Her people love her, you've seen that. Just like your brother does. You've seen how they fight all for her."

She turned away at the mention of her brother and rather looked back at the Unsullied troops that were still flooding through the gates. Their feet stomping had annoyed Jaime since they started. Sansa spoke softly and he nearly couldn't hear her. "The Unsullied? The Dothraki?"

"And the northerners and the Vale and the wildlings."

"The Dothraki are all dead now, far away from their homes. And the Unsullied are slaves. They have trained all their life as warriors, to obey and follow their owner."

"She freed them. They have no reason to follow-"

Sansa looked like she didn't believe him. She raised one brow at Tyrion and her lips curled in one corner. "Even if she did. They're taken away from their mothers as babies, they don't know their names, they don't know where they came from. What else are they supposed to do? The northenmen and the wildlings fought for Jon. The Vale came for me."

"She wants to make the world a better place. I believe in her."

Jaime rolled his eyes. The brother he knew would never look at Daenerys and not see her as a threat. Jaime had seen those eyes on someone else when he was younger. The way Tyrion ignored it all gave him enough reason to suspect there was something more going on. "You believe in the person who burned people alive for disobeying her? Who had people nailed to crosses all along a massive road in Essos?"

"Well, e-every good ruler needs to inspire a bit of fear. Wouldn't- wouldn't you say so?"

"A bit of fear? Tyrion, do you hear yourself? She burned Lannister men, our men, and the food supply meant for the people of King's Landing."

"Tyrion, she threatened to use Jon against me. I can't forgive that. I may have misjudged her at the beginning. I've apologized for it, but so far she hadn't done much to show me she actually cares about the common folk." Sansa looked almost sorry as she spoke to Tyrion. They both must have noticed how Tyrion tried clinging onto Daenerys.

"I feel quite uncomfortable being outnumbered like this. Is there a chance I could speak to my brother on the way to my horse, My Lady?

"Of course." She knelt down to hug him. "Good luck on your journey, My Lord. Your wits will be greatly missed during meals."

"I will think of you often, Sansa. You've grown into a wonderful woman."

She gave him a curtsy and smiled. Jaime noticed that it did reach her eyes this time.

"Jaime? Shall we?" He crooked his head towards the courtyard where a horse with special rains stood, waiting for Tyrion.

They descended the stairs at his brother's pace and Jaime noticed from the corner of his eye that Sansa was frowning at them. Their eyes met for a moment and she turned her back to him yet again.

The closer they got to Tyrion's horse, the tighter Jaime's heart got and by the time they stopped, he felt like wheezing. There was a giant lump in his throat and Tyrion eyed him with a concerned look. They both knew the origin of his troubles.

He had avoided thinking about it all since he came to Winterfell. He had voluntary avoided the council meetings about Daenerys's attack on King's Landing. He pushed it all into the back of his mind, but now that Tyrion was truly setting out along with the Dragon Queen, his worried resurfaced.

Cersei. His sister. He had silently accused Sansa of using him to distract herself from her own love for her brother, but in truth, he had used her to not think about the faith that will soon befall Cersei.

"Will she kill her?"

Tyrion avoided looking Jaime in the eye and rather turned to mount his horse. Jaime helped him and once he was settled in his saddle, Tyrion finally faced his worried brother. "I've tried easing her into other choices. Life-long prisoner, the Silent Sisters, exile, Faith of the Seven. It hasn't been easy for me."

Jaime nodded quietly, not trusting his voice. He swallowed back his desire to mount the horse next to his brother and ride South with him. "I wish I could help you. I want to go-"

"I know. It's best you stay here. I will do what I can to help Cersei, but she's stubborn. Her tongue might get her killed even if I succeed."

"She'll fight for the baby. She always has fought for her children."

They stood quietly for a moment. Then Jaime grabbed his brother's hand and gave him a hug. Their final goodbye before Daenerys takes the Throne.

"Tyrion. Tell- tell her that- that I'm sorry."

"I will."

He didn't return to Sansa's side after Tyrion left. He watched his brother leave and then turned to head to his chambers.


	24. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on this chapter for so long now, I don't think I'm truly satisfied with it, but I owe you a chapter by now. It's been a while since I updated.

"The wildlings ride North today." Brienne stood at the doorway of Sansa's quarters and waited for her commands. Sansa only glanced at her for a brief moment and returned to her writing. "Ser Brienne, just who I was hoping to see."

Brienne spoke of something that Sansa was already aware of as she gathered up the reports and ravens that maester Wolken had brought up to her chambers. Day by day the numbers at Winterfell grew smaller and smaller as all abled men travelled South to fight and others set out to return to their homes. First Jon and his part of the troops left, then Dany and the Unsullied followed and soon enough she'd find herself saying goodbye to the wildlings. 

She had stacks of reports delivered to her room while the repairs on the northeast side of Winterfell were underway, right where the dragon, that the Night King rode, crumbled the stone walls and towers where the armoury and Guards Hall used to be. Parts of the First Keep and one of the kitchens fell in the process. Had the dragon aimed slightly more west, its fire would have hit the Great Keep which would have caused an unrepairable amount of damage. 

"I beg your pardon, my Lady." Brienne approached the table slowly and the wood creaked under her heels.

"You're pardoned. What for?" There was only a slight pause in Sansa's writing as she reached over to grab another piece of parchment and laid it over her previously written lines, out of Brienne's sight. A raven came from Moat Cailin and Lord Royce the previous night and she was just in the midst of writing a message to The Twins. It was a personal matter no one besides herself and her siblings needed to be informed about. 

"For disappearing the previous night. I was-" 

"I don't care about that. You're free to do whatever you like." She saw the way Brienne looked down at her feet and recognized that she had spoken harsher than she intended. She sighed back the tension in her shoulders and smiled at her sworn sword. "What do you think of Tormund, Brienne?" 

"Sometimes I can't tell if he's just drunk or if he has some kind of disease, my Lady."

Sansa chuckled. When she first met the wildling chieftain, as Jon had introduced him, she brushed him aside as a weird madman beyond the Wall. That was an appropriate first assumption, but she had soon learned that he was a comedic individual as well. Seeing how much Jon laughed and otherwise enjoyed himself in Tormund's company had made her feel reluctant to let him leave. They could use someone like him to lift the spirits ever so often. "He does say some interesting things at the least appropriate times." 

"He does have mildly humorous stories, but I wouldn't mind seeing him learn some manners." 

"He's a wildling, having no manners is their appeal, isn't it? it's part of his charm."

"I don't find it charming in the slightest."

"I'd like to move on to an important matter now. I've received word from Riverrun that my great-uncle is alive and well," She paused to study her sword's face for any reaction. There was a subtle rise in her eyebrows and Sansa placed her hands over her chest and leaned away from the table. "as you know already."

Brienne's face fell and she stared at Sansa. She might have been caught off guard with the question, but Brienne never showed any sign of discomfort. "My Lady, I had sworn to keep his escape from you. For his and your safety."

"That's what my great uncle might have said, yes. In truth, he is quite fond of theatrics and stealthy endeavours. Mother always regarded him as a problematic one." 

"I've noticed, my Lady."

"How did he do it?"

"He planned on fighting his way to death, but one of his men urged him to flee with me. Once the castle gates were open by the Lord of Riverrun's orders, half of Blackfish and Tully loyalists had swum their way to the woods nearby. Jaime had been too smug about his own plan to realize that while those were Riverrun men, more than half of them followed Blackfish's orders. He didn't want to see them die because of your uncle, so he ordered them to flee and fight another day. Only he was too stubborn to listen to his own words." Brienne smiled faintly as she spoke. "Nobody had seen him swim away, holding onto my boat. Once Podrick and I got back on the road, I heard the commoners whisper that he died fighting. I don't know what happened to him after, my Lady." 

"That does sound like him. It seems as if he's been quite busy since you parted ways. He has retaken Riverrun again after the Lannister army left and he's now Lord of The Twins as well. We are going to meet him there."

"When do we ride out, my Lady?" 

Sansa could tell by the way she tapped her fingers against the hilt of her sword that Brienne wasn't at all eager to leave Winterfell. She will object to the trip as much as possible, hoping to sway Sansa for it, but there was too much she wanted to do, too many things hanging over her head that she needed to settle and arrange with her great-uncle and others. 

"Given that we'll travel with a small party and the preparations are well underway, I would like to set out in three days' time. I don't want to go too soon and meet with Jon and his forces. We'll be conquering ground much quicker than them."

"My lady, are you sure that it's wise leaving without support? I will lay my life down for you, but if we're ever ambushed on the road, I have no illusions that my sword will be enough." 

"This is a secret trip and I want to avoid too many people knowing about it. We still have many enemies, Brienne. Please, speak of this to no one."

"What about Jaime?"

Jaime had been a sensitive subject. It's been more than a day since the Dragon Queen left and Tyrion along with her and he had tried very hard to not meet her in any way. He barely ventured out of his room that morning to break his fast, she had been told by her servants and spent all day butchering a hay doll in the training yard. None of those things would have raised suspicion with her since he had always been vocal about hating the North and not feeling welcomed, but her nerves flared last night when she saw him coming out of the stables looking far too nervous for someone who was just visiting his horse. 

"We'll let him know the night before we ride."

"He won't like that." 

"He hasn't spoken to me since Tyrion left. I don't know what was said between them, but he has been avoiding me ever since. I would like to say that I trust him, but his recent behaviour is making me second-guess his intentions."

"He was just sparring with me, my Lady. He seems to be in a bad mood." Brienne spoke softly about Jaime and her worries about him and Sansa could see how much Brienne truly cared for the man. It was daunting that she never had anyone care about her as much and Sansa wondered who would Brienne pick between Jaime and her if they were ever both in danger. 

She shook the thought out of her head and rubbed her eyes. All those sleepless nights spent wandering Winterfell and praying for relief of the guilt she harboured in her stomach since Bran came to her with his vision of King's Landing had started to show in her daily routine. She had become slightly inattentive and disorganized in her management and relied more and more on Maester Wolken for help. 

She had seen the same happening to Jaime. Until Jon left Sansa thought Jaime was only retiring to his bed later than the rest of the castle, but on one of her aimless walks after Jon's leave she had noticed that he had been just as sleep-deprived as her. 

They were more alike than she initially thought. Maybe that's why she kept seeking out his company when there were more appropriate people to go to. 

"I have no doubt it's been hard for him. Daenerys is flying to King's Landing to burn his sister and his own brother is helping her. While I might not share his grief, I would like to give him the time he obviously needs to himself."

"I'm worried about him, my Lady. I've vouched for him and now I'm-" 

"No one would ever hold you accountable if he were to do something stupid." Sansa had a certain stupid act in mind, something that Jaime was more than capable of doing, but she hoped Brienne would help and keep him grounded. "And I would never stop you from consoling him. Now that Daenerys and her army have marched South, I don't need my sworn shield with me all the time. You may spend your days however you desire, Ser Brienne. I only ask of you to be present when I need you by my side."

Brienne nodded firmly, but she made no attempt to move towards the door even when Sansa had motioned her to leave her. If that had been done by anyone else besides Brienne, her reaction would have been different. She only sighed back down her chair and waited for the Knight to speak. 

"Forgive me, but I feel the need to ask. Why are we riding to The Twins?" 

Telling Brienne a part of her plan didn't seem like a bad idea. She trusted her most out of everyone outside her family, but she knew that there was always a possibility of secrets getting out, intentionally or not. "If I tell you why you must swear to keep quiet about it. No one must know."

"I swear to the old Gods and the new, my Lady. I will keep quiet."

Brienne was an honourable and loyal Knight and Sansa absolutely loved her for it. She smiled and leaned over her table. "We are going to collect my mother's and brother's remains. They are going to be buried down in the crypts like all the Starks before them. As will Theon."

She didn't expect the shock on Brienne's face. 

"Isn't he a Greyjoy, my Lady?"

"Not to me. He grew up with me, he's as much a Stark in my eyes as Bran or Arya or- " she hesitated. "Or Jon."

Jon would always be a Stark to her, but she wondered if he would want to be called one now. He had never felt like a true, accepted Stark and maybe now he'll be proud to cast aside that name and fully accept his true heritage. 

She didn't like that thought. 

Brienne's boot caused a creak in the floor and Sansa tried returning to the topic at hand. She avoided Brienne's gaze and focused on the parchments around her desk. 

"It might take some time to make the statues of them as repairs on Winterfell are still underway and all hands are full of work, but they will receive the respectful burial they deserve. I would like to bury my brother with his crown, but Bran can't seem to find it. Who knows where it is by now." But what matters to Sansa is that her family will be whole again. Her mother and brother will finally find peace close to her. The pack will regroup. 

"The statues might not even look like them. Anyone who knew their face is dead now." Tears gathered in the corner of her eyes. No one will be able to capture her brother's handsome face or her mother's sweet smile. Many years had passed between their last moments together and Robb and Mother's death and she was sure they had changed in that time. Robb had probably grown into a strong man, manly and with the face of a proper King. She only hoped they'll be able to get a good stonemason for their statues. Someone who will make them look as good as they deserve their statues to be. 

She wondered if Bran could help her again. She tapped the her knuckles against the hard wooden table without with a slight rhythm and looked at Brienne with half a smile. "I need to visit Bran. Will you escort me?"

Not waiting for a reply, she yawned her way out of her chair and knew instantly by the grimace on Brienne's face that she was on the verge of ushering her back to bed. 

"How is your injury?" 

"It's fine. You needn't worry about me. Maester Wolkan has been taking good care of me."

"I've often seen you spend your days in the godswood and return to your chambers quite late, my Lady. I know because I've escorted you multiple times even though you had tried to dismiss me. I apologize for speaking out of line, but if there's any way I can help you, please let me know."

"Thank you, Brienne, but unless you can cast me back into the time before Lord Arynn's death, there's nothing you can do to help me."

They fell into a silent walk after that and Sansa knew, while she had spoken far harsher than intended, that there truly was no way to numb the constant pain she felt while in Winterfell. Her family's ghost had been walking beside her everywhere she went and all she could see was Robb, Mother, Father and Rickon. 


	25. Sansa

"There's nothing more to say."

It was way past midday when the horn at Winterfell signalled another departure. Sansa rose hastily from her praying position alongside Bran's wheelchair and made her way to the northern gates, Bran and Brienne in tow. It was time for the wildlings to set north.

Bran opted to stay with maester Wolkan while Brienne and Sansa said their goodbyes. She knew he didn't converse with any of them enough to feel a desire to say goodbye and while neither did she, it was her duty to be there when all comings and goings happened at Winterfell.

The choice to leave when she was in the middle of an important conversation with Bran regarding the Dragon Queen and Arya's unannounced departure, made her want to just send them off in a hurry and be done with it. Bran had been adamant that there was nothing more for them to discuss, but she knew if she had more time to question him, he would have told her what she wanted to hear.

That there was a way to save thousands in King's Landing. That there was a way for Arya to get close to Daenerys on Dragonstone. But instead, Bran had shut her down that it was all a part of a prophecy and no one can ever challenge a thing like that. He advised her to do what she could to protect herself and the Northern people before the horns blew and a group of crows circled above them at the sound. It would have all been creepy she hadn't grown used to it. It had been like that ever since Bran came back from beyond the wall. Crows and a raven were always present, lurking in the shadows when she spoke to Bran.

"What are you doing?" she called out to the wildling chief.

Tormund turned on his horse to face her and lifted his arms for a hug. The man looked thrilled to see her and he laughed as she approached. "The Lady of the South! Come to run away with me north?"

"Don't you have pretty ladies beyond that wall?" came a strained voice from above her. She twirled around to frown at the golden-handed Knight as he descended the stairs. He seemed in a cheerful mood as he gave her a smug smile and stopped at her side.

Brienne cleared her throat. "It's nice of you to make an appearance, we were beginning to think that you've gone ill."

"I'm just passing by on the way to the training yard and I couldn't make myself walk away from this lovely gathering." He turned to Tormund. "Do all your women have beards or just the few you brought with you?"

The wildling's eyes widened and he laughed. "Well, where I'm from, women are-"

"Tormund," Sansa interrupted with a soft voice. She didn't want him to start another one of his stories or they'd be standing in the snow for the rest of the day. "What are you doing with Ghost?"

"I'm taking him north."

"Absolutely not. Ghost is staying with me."

Tormund dismounted his horse and came to stand by Ghost. The wolf seemed pleased with all the attention, Sansa noted, as his ears focused on whoever was fighting over him. "Jon said-"

It did not matter to her what Jon meant to do by sending Ghost beyond the wall, but she would not let him go. The wolf had been a reminder of Jon while he was away and she loved him like she once loved Lady. They slept together often and he accompanied her almost everywhere. She knew it was selfish to refuse Ghost the freedom he would have beyond the wall, but she needed him by her side. Sansa often cried into his fur when she was frustrated and without her family beside her and now that Jon and Arya left again and Bran was just a shell of who he used to be, she feared that Ghost was needed again. "I don't care what Jon said. Ghost is staying here. I won't let you leave with him."

"He's a wild animal, my Lady. He'd be better off in the wild." Sansa shot Jaime a hard glare that told him to keep his mouth shut and he stepped back a few paces. He raised his hands as if to signal that he won't be interrupting anymore. "My apologies."

She turned back to Tormund and beckoned the wolf to her side. He slid down her leg and rested his head on her foot, defiantly letting Tormund know that he won't be obeying Jon's wishes. "He's staying here. His ear wound still hasn't fully healed and I need him here."

Tormund snuck in a glance at Brienne and her length before shrugging. "If that's what the Little Crow's sister wants."

Brienne stepped closer to Sansa but looked wryly at Ghost. She couldn't hold back her smile as the Knight stepped around the white fur as if Ghost hadn't let her pet him many nights ago. "What about the people, my Lady? Some are very frightened by him."

"He won't attack people unless they're a threat. He's been taught to-"

Jaime snorted and rolled his eyes. "It's a wild beast. You can't train a wild beast."

He shouldn't have said that. He shouldn't have said anything really. The wolf was growling at him as soon as he did, under Sansa's watchful eye, of course. She put her hand on Ghost's head and the wolf settled down back into the snow to prove Jaime wrong. Sansa challenged him to continue his argument with a raised brow and a light smirk and Jaime only shook his head and cursed under his breath. "You Starks and your damn wolves."

"Jaime," Brienne warned. "Have you eaten anything yet?"

She was trying to usher Jaime away from the crowd. Sansa looked at him with a polite smile and nodded at him to take up Brienne's offer and leave her to deal with Tormund alone. She didn't need his jests.

"I'm famished, actually. But I'm starving for something other than food." He gave Sansa a wink but she turned away from the overly confident knight.

"Then you're no good to be fed to Ghost," Sansa teased. "Too bony."

She heard Jaime was still standing behind her from the lack of footsteps. Brienne sighed back into her previous position.

One of the wildlings she recognized from the feast walked up to inform them the rest of the group was ready to move out.

"You!" Tormund grabbed him by the neck and forced him to the ground with a hoarse growl. The man looked absolutely frightened as he was being yelled at. "You're supposed to bend the knee when speaking to a Queen."

Sansa was caught off guard and she only stood still as the wildling chieftain's laugh echoed throughout the courtyard. His stunt had drawn quite a crowd around them and he only laughed harder, inching closer to his victim, forcing a laugh out of him as well. She gave a wary smile and beckoned the man on his knees to rise. "I- I'm not a Queen, Tormund. I could be deemed a traitor if the wrong people heard you call me that."

The laughter stopped and Tormund looked around at the men with a threatening glance. "Any of these fuckers?"

It was meant to evoke a smile amongst the gathered but it only reminded her that there were still spies in Winterfell. Varys didn't know of Jon's true parentage and Dobb's decision to legitimize Jon as a Stark by putting his own ear against the door. He would never give up his subtle power in the North, especially since they were on opposite sides.

The farewell was short and weird. Tormund had pulled her into an unexpected hug, ignoring how improper it was on her side of the wall and brushed it off with a firm squeeze. She wished him a safe trip back and he invited her to visit him and see the beauty of the far north. "And I don't mean the women."

"Your Grace," Jaime teased as he escorted her back inside once the party left. "How does it feel now that the intruders have finally left?"

"Intruders?"

He leaned on her door as they stopped. "I know how you Northerners hate outsiders."

Sansa absolutely despised the way Jaime was acting as if nothing had happened. He came back with a tease after a day of avoiding both her and Brienne and expected her to ignore it. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"There are still outsiders in Winterfell, Ser Jaime," she reached out to the knob on her door, but found Jaime's hand already resting on it. He have her a sly smile and twisted it open in her stead. He took a step backwards into her chambers and moved to the side to let her pass. With a raised brow she followed his hand's gesture of urging her inside and turned to face him as he leaned against the closing door. 

"And one has just stumbled into your chambers, as you'd most likely say."


	26. Jaime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written three variations of this chapter with different takes on Jaime because I just couldn't find the right amount of snob and typical Jaime fuckery. It's just one giant mess and I'm sorry about that. 
> 
> I'd love to hear some feedback on the personalities and behaviour of characters since it's the biggest thing I'm struggling with right now (plot-wise, I know my Grammar is absolute rubbish on all accounts).

Sansa was the first to break the awkward silence that followed as they stood deeply rooted into their places, merely inches away from each other. She invited him to drink some of her wine and left his proximity to go lit a candle on her table. He followed her slowly and reached out to brush a small knot out of her hair with his hand once he came to a stop behind her. He didn't expect her to turn when she did, and his hand halted between them, just a stretch away from her chin.

She gave him an empty smile, one of many faces that she wore to hide her thoughts and Jaime missed whatever courtesies spilt from her mouth then. He didn't care much for the machinating Sansa and he knew she only had something insignificant and insincere to say.

Under the candlelight, above his fingers barely grazing her skin, he noticed the rings under her eyes. Deep-seated rings of exhaustion that did not belong on her ice sculpture of a face. The presentation of the strong Lady of Winterfell faltered, unbeknownst to her, and although she spoke and stood like one, Jaime could only see a sleep-deprived girl with too little time to focus on herself. Sansa deserved better care than she let herself receive and Jaime knew he was part of the problem, coming to her late at night, selfish thoughts swimming through his mind. She had been more than just compliant in their endeavours, but he should have been the one to swallow back his desires and look out for the wellbeing of his company. He was the older and more experienced one after all and swallowing desires and self-gratification was one of his expertise when it came to women. Well, woman.

Sansa raised her eyebrow at him, seemingly annoyed by his quiet demeanour and with a sigh directed her attention elsewhere.

Jaime pushed the thoughts of guilt into the back of his mind and he found himself focusing on the way Sansa's hands trailed over her leather bodice to loosen the straps. He had never truly looked at it before, but with all this newfound knowledge of Sansa's bad health, he observed that leather armour she donned looked uncomfortable and tight. She looked like she was partially forced into that straightened position she always stood in, with her hands behind her back and chin high. She was practically suffocating.

He traced the outline of her jaw with his golden hand and let it rest against her lips. She fluttered her lashes and pursed her lips disapprovingly.

Another part of his mind forced his eyes to the leather over her breasts and he duly noted that it seemed like it was practically moulded over her form. It flattered her nicely and did justice to her actual breasts, but naked Sansa was still the favourite state to see her in. He wet his lips as his throat ran dry at the thought.

"Your absence has been noted, Ser. By many. Numerous times." Sansa gave him a ghost of a smirk and she looked at him as if to tell him that she knew what was swimming through his head. She turned away teasingly slow, brushing her skirts against him and started pulling on the buckle of her leather belt.

Jaime walked around her with a smirk and plopped down on her bed, resting his back against the pile of fur behind him and stretched out like he was marking the space for himself. With a glare from Sansa and another twirl to avoid his wandering eyes, he pulled at his tunic's front ties. "There's almost as much gossip here as there is at Court. You should do something about it before it becomes a problem."

"It's not the gossip that bothers me. It will be a problem once they turn against their Liege Lord. Are you worried your little secrets will trickle to me?"

"Liege Lord? Have you given up the fight for a free North?" He flailed his left hand around as if he was delivering some profound questions. "What about your vigorous hate for the Dragon Queen?"

Sansa stilled her hands on the straps around her collarbone and turned. The look she gave him was no softer then what he had received the very first time they spoke to each other. She tried seeming bored with him, but there was obvious frustration heard in her voice as she approached slowly. She pouted and pulled at the straps crisscrossed over her chest, finally free from her intricate belt. "You're avoiding the subject I wish to discuss with you."

"And that is?"

He watched the thing hit the ground with a clank and suddenly remembered what he came to her room for. All this gawking at her dress has completely deterred his original purpose. Jaime hoped to get Sansa's permission to ride South and save what was left of his family.

"You've been avoiding me." Sansa stopped in front of him, brushing her skirts against his inner thighs again. "Why?"

Jaime heard her, but he took his time to answer. Sansa would not like hearing the truth and he hoped to steer the conversation elsewhere for her own sake. He would not want to lay on her already worried mind, that he had planned on riding South without her knowledge and had spent most of his time, since Tyrion left, plotting how to get past the guards at Winterfell and try to make his journey go unnoticed for as long as he could. He did try pretending to himself that preoccupation was the reason for his lack of contact, but in truth, it was pure guilt. Guilt from knowing that he would break her truth if he went through with his plans.

Jaime unintentionally knitted his eyebrows. He had never felt much guilt before when things came down to Cersei. Things used to be easy back when he was still so desperately latching onto his sister before she lost all the things that made her human and he learned of how she never thought twice to use him, knowing full well he was a devoted man. Far more than she had been. And then she became completely consumed by paranoia and power. He knew there was no more love between them, not with how things have turned out. Cersei would surely kill him if he ever tried reconciling because he knew far better than anyone that she was incapable of such a thing. But with the ghost of who she used to, the girl and woman that he loved dearly, the woman he would push a young boy to his death for, the woman who had birthed him three children that he never truly cared for like a father until the day he lost them, he had to help her escape the cruel faith that Daenerys Targaryen would come riding on.

He knew he was a fool, but he hoped she could be redeemed nonetheless. With the struggle between duty, love and honour in his mind, he pulled on the front of Sansa's skirts as if that would bring him some relief. She stared him down unhinged and those purple lines made him decide. He would not tell Sansa of his plans to leave.

Whether or not it was a selfish or selfless choice, he couldn't tell.

With a forced smirk Jaime placed his hand on her hip and yanked her forwards, which turned out to be harder to do than expected, given that she purposely pulled back in defiance.

"Why?" she repeated firmly.

"You needn't worry. I haven't grown tired of you just yet."

Sansa stepped back from his grasp and he let his hands fall back to his sides. "I forgot- Why are you here exactly?"

"I assumed you missed me." He straightened his back before slouching back down into the furs.

Sansa looked over some parchments on her table and he could only see half of her smile. "I quite enjoyed the day without you. It was quiet and peaceful."

"I'm beyond offended by the fact you think so little of my company."

She gave him a sly smirk over her shoulder. "You attract a lot of attention."

"Trust me, it's not me who's attracting anything besides Kingslayer insults, " he practically crooned as he nodded his head at her dress that she was so tirelessly struggling with just moments before.

Sansa crooked her head to the side and faced him. "You'd like to talk about dresses?"

"I'm trying to gain your favour, my Lady."

"Ser Jaime, I don't have time for your jests." 

"You should always make time for me." Jaime padded the empty space next to him. "And rest. You need to rest before you go about your little schemes." 

"I'm afraid of what you might do in my absence. I'll rest when you will."

He couldn't tell if Sansa was implying that she knew of his plans to leave or if she was just returning his tease. 

"Quite eager to get me back into your bed, are you?" 

"Even if I was, I'm sure we wouldn't be getting much rest that way." For a brief moment, Sansa looked disgusted with herself for exposing her emotion so wantonly. Then she straightened up and motioned Jaime to head for the door. "Goodnight Ser Jaime." 

"You're not going to listen to me, are you?" He sighed and stalked towards her slowly. She shook her head no slightly. 

"You're just as stubborn as Cersei," he murmured to himself. Or so he thought he did. 

The look on Sansa's face told a different story and he knew instantly that he had made a mistake and she swallowed hard before speaking. "I remind you of Cersei?" 

She gripped the side of the table and her knuckles whitened. Jaime knew there was no point in speaking about it anymore and he wasn't sure why the thought even crossed his mind. He inched closer with a shy smile, hoping to dissolve the tension. 

"You don't like hearing that, my apologies." 

To his surprise, Sansa didn't back away when he put his hand on her shoulder. With a light hold on her, he moved around to stand behind her. 

"Of course, I don't," she scoffed. "I've always considered myself to be the complete opposite of her. Cersei's cruel and vengeful, she's hungry for power and will do anything to get it or keep it. She doesn't care about anyone else besides herself. How exactly does that description fit me?"

"You're a smart girl, Sansa. You know I didn't mean anything bad."

"You look good in this." Jaime purred as he hooked his thumb in one of Sansa's leather straps on her shoulder and pulled lightly.

"It's only crossed my mind now that Cersei wore leather and steel like this when she felt threatened," he divulged to Sansa, flashes of Cersei in her coronation gown mixed in with the vision of Sansa before him. He stopped his good hand from going any further south down her arm and angled himself so that he could see her face. "Do you feel threatened?" 

"In the North most clothes are made of wool and leather. And we are in the North"

"Such a needless reminder. I'm aware of the fact that we're North" Jaime snapped back and let her go. "I've got frozen balls to stir the memory if it ever escapes me."

"Would you like me to provide you with more suitable attire for the weather?" 

"Don't trouble yourself with me, I can finally put Brienne's squire to work."

"Podrick serves Ser Brienne. He has far more important tasks than-" 

"The boy has barely done anything since I've been here. He's been charming your help and Tyrion won't shut up about how he once received free-" 

There was a light knock at the door. The intruder didn't waste any time waiting for a reply and Jaime couldn't help himself from cursing under his breath at the sight of the maester. The man bowed his head and apologized for the interruption. 

"Actually, you couldn't have come at a better time." 

The maester looked bewildered as Jaime spoke. His eyes dashed from Sansa to Jaime and back again. Jaime stepped closer and smiled at the man. "Truly, it must be the maester instinct of some sort."

"I beg your pardon my Lord, but I've come for Lady San-"

"Nonsense," Jaime interjected firmly. "The Gods have sent you to me. Lady Stark shall rest while you help me with my urgent matter."

He didn't leave the maester with much time to object. With a firm grip on his upper arm had done the trick and the older man stumbled with him through the door. Jaime glanced at Sansa one last time before closing the door to her chambers and he could see the shock on her face as he had just single-handedly forced her into resting. He gave her one more smirk as a goodbye and turned to the maester once they were in the hall. "Let her rest. Tell Ser Brienne that Lady Stark has asked her to send away anyone that would wish to disturb her."

"Understood, my Lord."


	27. Jamie

  
He was sitting at the entrance to the Great Hall, glancing at the southern gate as inconspicuously as he could while cleaning his sword, when the opportunity presented itself. Only one guard stood at the gate as the rest stepped away from their posts and walked off into the Great Hall. The courtyard was empty all around with only him being stupid enough to tend to his work in the cold.

Jaime jumped up at the opening and quietly hurried to the stables, moving amongst the shadows. The horse did not need much work to be readied. He hurried with the saddle and reins, hoping to take a moment and arrange things right once he was out of sight. He had planned in advance to travel through the forest that edged quite close along the Kingsroad from Winterfell to Castle Cerwyn and it would do good to set any followers off his course. Although his intended destination was quite obvious.

He cursed his clumsy left hand and abandoned his work on the saddle, fearful that he might be caught if he took too long. He made swift steps across the yard, eyes dashing every which way he could think to check for any witnesses.

He let go of his horse Honor for a moment and used to him as a distraction from by sending him out alone. The remaining guard, caught up in catching the reins of their loose horse, didn't notice Jamie as he snuck up behind and hit him over the head with his golden hand like Bronn had done to Jamie so many times during their training. The guard yelped into Jaime's good hand as he tried restraining him from making any sound and the poor man sank to the floor with a heavy thud. Jaime dragged the unconscious guard out of clear sight and let his back rest against the outer stone before stalking back to his patiently awaiting steed and finally stepped out onto the Kingsroad.

The night was quiet and almost all of the torches lining the castle walls had been blown out by the heavy wind, making it incredibly hard to see if the guards had taken places atop the battlements yet once he was outside the walls. If any were there, they would surely blow the horns once they saw him galloping a black speck against the white snowy background. The hairs on the back of his neck did not rest even though he had made it out safely. The thoughts of what he was leaving behind him kept creeping into his mind although he had tried to shut them down.

The light from Winterfell dimmed out and soon Jaime could barely see anything in front of him, but he could only sigh and endure. Lighting a torch would immediately expose him, so he ventured on with a steady pace, knowing that the first mile of the Kingsroad was full of holes and Honor could quickly break his leg if he wasn't careful in the high snow that had gathered, fresh and untouched from the Long Night. Tightening his grip on Honor's reins, the leather gloves made the only sound besides the horse's hooves mushing the snow underneath them and Jaime's loud thoughts drowning out his heavy breathing.

His face stung from the cold and his makeshift coat was proving to be completely useless against the north wind. The thought of turning around crossed his mind and he glanced back at Winterfell. There was a sliver of hope in him that he would see copper on top of those battlements and it would make turning around easier, but Winterfell was too far away for him to see anyone, let alone their hair. The time was well past midnight and he knew Sansa had already retired or, if not, pouring herself into work regarding Winterfell and its repairs. She had no knowledge of his leave and even if she did, Jaime doubted that she would see him off, knowing what his destination was.

Jaime closed his eyes and wiped at the tears that gathered in the corners. It was from the cold, he told himself. Slightly warm palms felt good against his cold face and he let them linger over it until something nearly knocked him off his saddle.

Galloping hooves. Quite far in the distance but he still heard them.

It was coming from behind him. He thought of hiding off the path and letting the follower ride on by into the darkness while he travelled along the road, but he couldn't think long as Honor began slowing down without his command.

He could feel the horse moved cautiously and steady as something must have caught his attention. Its movements were sharper and stiffer than usual and he seemed fixed on something in the darkness. The galloping drew closer and yet he could not budge his horse however he tried.

In a blink of an eye, as his horse seemed to have seen something that frightened it, he found himself in three feet of snow as Honor changed directions and galloped back down the road from whence they came.

"I can't believe you," came a voice from the darkness in front. It was a call accompanied by a growl he could only chalk up to a wolf he had grown quite used to being terrorized by.

And unless it was his just his guilty mind playing tricks, he was able to recognise the voice belonging to no other than-

"Brienne," he sighed and shook some snow out of his hair. He had been caught, but no matter the situation, he couldn't stop himself from asking: "Taking a nightly stroll beyond the walls?"

"On a hunt for deserters." The white wolf came into view and bared his teeth. The pearly whites caught some light behind him and as the wolf neared Jaime could not stop looking at the red paint stuck to his fur right around his snout.

"Who would be stupid enough to try and run on a night like this?"

She didn't reply, not that he needed one. The hooves he heard in the distance had finally caught up with him and they brought a torch to illuminate Brienne's expression. Had he not had nightmares of that face in the past, he might have been shocked the way her face morphed into a look of pure disappointment and disgust as she pulled him to his feet. Her hold on him was painful as she sank her gloved figures into his forearm and did not cease with the pressure even once he was firmly standing on his own two feet.

"I vouched for you," she spoke through gritted teeth and Jaime caught on to her threatening gaze not to try anything stupid once she'd let go. Brienne yanked him towards one of the Northern men, a young lad that was unfit to travel South with the rest of the forces, given the large injury he had sustained during the Long Night. Jaime could only assume he was a coward for staying behind, if he was capable of riding out to catch him, then he was capable of dying in the capital, Jaime decided.

So as the man tried to get him to hand over his sword with the rest of his belongings, Jaime simply raised his hands with a smirk and waved his golden hand. He thought of pushing the man down into the snow and escaping on his horse, but the man did not make any attempts at dismounting. He only smirked back at the Kingslayer and pulled a bundle of rope into Jaime's line of vision. "You can always walk back, Lannister. The Lady of Winterfell did not give any orders on how you are to be returned."

To his surprise, Brienne did not object to such treatment and Jaime had no other choice but to do what was demanded of him and not walk his way back to Winterfell. He settled behind Brienne on his ride back once they realized that Honor had truly disappeared.

"I vouched for you," Brienne repeated once they dismounted in the courtyard.

"I don't recall ever asking you to."

"Yet you were grateful once I did." She faced him for the first time since pulling him to his feet and he spotted something else besides her usual look of disappointment. The way her eyes lingered on him when she thought he couldn't see, Jaime knew there was more to her than just disappointment at his attempted escape.

He was stripped of his sword, armour and all other belongings except for his clothes and was forced to wait out by the stables until word came from Sansa on what to do with him. As the Northern man took his time to deliver the nightly happenings Jaime gathered quite the crowd around him. Whatever man was left on Winterfell grounds gathered around him and indulged in whispers among the rest. Jaime, having no will to entertain them, turned to face Brienne.

"Brienne."

She didn't look at him and rather focused her attention on scanning the courtyard. He had expected her to belittle him for his actions and found himself even wishing that was the case after the group of Northern man thinned out.  One of them stepped onto Jaime's path and nodded at Brienne.

"Lady Stark will see him now."


	28. Jaime

His wish for a quiet walk remained unanswered as Brienne latched herself onto his side, ignoring his protest and multiple attempts at breaking free from her glaring. The tension dragged out the trip to Sansa's chambers and he swore to himself that he had never walked that long even when he drunkenly stumbled through Winterfell one of his nights here. He felt like they were doing laps around the same corridors just so that he could feel Brienne's scrutiny on and on. 

The valiant knight spoke before he had the chance to object. Their elbows rubbed together as they descended stairs near Sansa's chambers and Brienne slowed her pace. "Lady Stark risked a fallout beyond your imagination choosing to let you stay. She had done what was right when she was under no obligation to do so. What did you think-"

"I doubt the young Lady of Winterfell will hold it against me that I have an urge to save my family," Jaime snapped before she could finish. They both stopped to speak in the corridor outside Sansa's solar. "Or what's left of it." 

Brienne nodded her head and let the other soldiers flee before their impending conflict. Jaime took it as a sign to relax and he leaned against the stone wall, almost surprised to realize it was warmer than he had expected. The hot springs had finally been repaired. 

"Your family-" Brienne began but he did not hear the rest of her words. He had occupied his thoughts with Cersei. 

There wasn't much left of his family in truth. To everyone else, there was only one kin he seemed to be riding South for, but there was someone else stirring in Cersei's belly, although he had found himself second-guessing the legitimacy of her claims. He had not left soon after she announced her pregnancy and there should have been some indication of growth in the months they spent together after. 

Knowing his sister, she had lied about many things before, but even she would not stoop so low. Not when it came to her children. 

But searching his feelings, with Brienne patiently waiting by his side, he realized he had nothing truly to latch onto except hope. His sister was not his sister anymore, no matter how many nights he spent convincing himself that after Tommen's death nothing had changed her. She had mourned their children's deaths less and less with each passing death. With Tommen, the youngest and the last to die, he had felt more like a mourning father than she a mother as she branded him a traitor for leaving her. Upon his return from fighting the Dragon Queen, there was no sadness in Cersei's eyes as she donned that bloody crown and took over the Seven Kingdoms. 

The thought of Cersei lying about her pregnancy had left a sour taste in his mouth and he loudly swallowed down a knot in his throat, which earned him a questioning look from Brienne. 

As Tyrion asked if there was any truth to her claims of being pregnant Jaime did not hesitate to support their sister's word. There was no reason to make Tyrion any more reluctant to help her as he had practically begged him so. To anyone, but himself, his thoughts of the matter will remain hidden. He will bid his time as he had planned from the moment he saw the Dragon Queen riding above Winterfell. 

Brienne cleared her throat and he gave her a sideways glance before turning to check if they were still alone in the hallway. 

Jaime took a step closer to her as the coast seemed clear of any eavesdroppers, but lowered his voice all the same. "You know where my loyalties lie when it comes to the living." 

It was meant to remind him more than it was to remind her. He did not want to admit but his loyalty had swayed heavily in the past year. There was too much going on and not enough time to properly think. Jaime had always been a slow learner and, as Cersei had said, the dull-witted Lannister. 

The remark would have cut deeper if he hadn't already made up his mind that she had changed beyond help. But-

"Why bother coming North? You should have stayed in King's Landing and saved yourself the trouble of false courtesies."

Brienne marched on ahead and only gave him a glare once she stood in front of Sansa Stark's door, reminding him that he was not yet finished defending himself. Lady Stark would not hold back, he was sure. 

With a slow pace, he followed until he stood by Brienne's side. There was no sound coming from beyond the door and he wondered if they had taken too long and Sansa had already retired.

As if the Gods heard his thoughts, something rattled from the inside and the knight beside him whispered. "I'm yet again forced to protect you from your own-" 

"If you're claiming this is to be like when the late Lady Stark and her little boy were playing at war, then I better prepare to forfeit another limb." 

"I've saved your life plenty to repay that debt."

"I've never seen you complain so much about me. You used to handle my teasing better than this. The cold has completely ruined your sense of humour. Not that you had plenty." In truth, he had expected nothing less from the present Knight. They had thrown insults at each other from the moment they've met, but even he had grown tired of their bickering by the end of the night. The unpredicted ride and capture had completely whipped him of his energy and he had wanted nothing more but to cease her speaking. 

"You're an arrogant man and it's going to kill you one day. I am in no mood to entertain your ideas of-" 

There was only one way to thoroughly annoy the Maiden of Tarth. He pinched the front of his breeches with an overexaggerated groan and pulled to make more room." This is starting to arouse-"  

He did not finish giving her a visual sense of what he was referring to. Laugh had taken over him the moment he laid his eyes back on her face and the facial expression she exhibited. 

Brienne sneaked a glance at where his hand rested and turned her attention back to the door with eyes wide as if she had just seen a monstrosity of an act. She swallowed and spoke through gritted teeth. "You should have left with the wildings, you belong with the rest of those uncivilized--" 

"Yes, if only that red-headed savage liked me as much as he liked you."

He could not find it within himself to hold back a smirk out of pure pleasure. There wasn't anyone in the Seven Kingdoms that could get so easily riled up as The Maiden of Tarth. 

Although he teased her mercilessly, there was tension between them that was not light or easily nonexistent. Too late had he realised that he was standing in front of Sansa's chambers, the woman he had not even a few hours ago tried to abandon. His jaw clenched and he waited for something to happen. 

He had so far done well to keep her from his mind. It was easier to occupy his mind with just about anything else besides the red-headed Lady of Winterfell. 

From the corner of his eye, he could see Brienne raise her hand as she knocked lightly on the door.  Three times. Three times her knuckles struck the hardwood and he took notice of how she knocked. Her knocking may have been light, but she looked as if she was practically punching the door. 

The quiet that followed seemed to have dragged on for ages. Jaime was left to think in his little spare time, free of Brienne's judgment, but it all proved to be in vain as he heard the door unlatch and saw the handle being pulled back to reveal-

"Pod?" 

"My Lady," the young squire addressed the taller knight by Jamie's side, not even sparing him a glance. "Lady Sansa will see you now."

Finally, they acknowledged him as Podrick stepped out of the way. Pod smiled at Jaime and for a moment he looked almost as confidant as Tyrion once described him being, coming back from the brothel with a full pouch of coin. 

"Good luck, Ser." 


End file.
